


The Care and Feeding of Magical Creatures

by Soren_Tycho



Category: The Care and Feeding of Magical Creatures
Genre: Anal Sex, Angels, Bondage, Canon Trans Character, Car Chases, Consensual Kink, Consensual Non-Consent, Demon Sex, Demon Summoning, Demonic Possession, Demons, Dom/sub, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Fantasy Sex, Gen, Genderswap, Group Sex, High Fantasy, Human/Monster Romance, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Virginity, Mind Control, Multi, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Occult, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Other, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Pygmalion, S&M, Sadism, Sentient Car, Sex, Sex Magic, Succubi & Incubi, The Care and Feeding of Magical Creatures - Freeform, Transformation, Urban Fantasy, Wish Fulfillment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 14:04:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 189,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17061161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soren_Tycho/pseuds/Soren_Tycho
Summary: When I was nineteen, a sweet and very determined succubus came to abduct me out of my bed and off to her home in Pandemonium. Getting off Earth was a wild ride, but it was nothing compared to what happened after we escaped...





	1. Eat Cute

**Author's Note:**

> This work contains formatting that makes it unreadable without using the work skin.
> 
> For a better reading experience with more styling options, read at https://sadehall.tumblr.com/index.html

“Come on, wake up, cutie.”

A sex dream, one of those clinging, persistent dreams that still hangs off you in tattered shreds no matter how hard you slam awake (and for that voice, I am assuredly slamming awake at full scramble-power-on), lurid and intense details all evaporating as I open my eyes, but the mood of it a deafening echo in my...head. Without this, I might startle more to open my eyes on this anime devil girl straddling me, looking at me with this sort of deranged, hungry smile and reaching out to touch my face.

...whoah. 

Holy fuck, it really is you. Holy fuck but I have missed that face.

Holy fuck WOO I did it I pulled if off!

HI!

Okay, fine, really I wake up to the most amazing breasts right at eye level, huge and roundly perfect and straining to spill out of the scanty leather bikini top that only dubiously contains them. This is a bit unexpected, but there are worse ways to wake up and by the time I’m awake enough to feel that odd starkness of reality that tells one they’re not dreaming I’ve had the time to groggily check out the girl they’re attached to quite thoroughly: unlikely proportions with curves to match her unreasonable breasts, ram’s horns (sort of, they’re square in cross-section and they grow the wrong way, points at the front, convex side of the curve on top instead of bottom, and are fine and smooth instead of gnarled), black bat wings sprouting from her shoulderblades that somehow manage to be cute instead of unsettling like actual bats, and a long barbed devil tail that’s whipping around madly like a cat about to pounce. Long metallic-silver hair, held back from complete unruliness by a wide barrette with a strange symbol silver-embossed in the center, spills over her shoulders in a windblown mess framing a soft, heart-shaped face dominated by lusty purple eyes with massive, improbable lashes, and pale, full, kissable lips. 

I should be freaking out, or reacting somehow at least, but I’m groggy and horny and lust and strangeness keep kicking the ground out from under each other as I go from taking in the way the thin leather of her top outlines her nipples to being drawn by the motion of her tail that settles from lashing to loop itself into a heart shape displayed beside her hip to tracing the deep curves of her waist and pleasantly round navel with its perfect little belly button to noticing that she’s not just pale and desaturated by the gloom of my nighttime room but actually _grey_ , her skin a pale and nearly paper-white color with no tint of pink the way an albino human would have, speckled unevenly with just-visible freckles of a color I can’t make out in the gloom...

She’s holding out a hand and saying something, but all I’m processing is her voice, which is high and breathy and melodic and cooingly sexual in reflection of the look on her face.

She says something, again, and I miss it, again, floating on a sea of sleep and lust and gray-skinned monster girl and that amazing voice...

“Kiss me? You know you want to.” 

It gets through, this time.

YES, CLUMSY, I KNOW. YES, SUPERSTITION, I KNOW. SHUT UP. I’m not gonna risk seven years of bad sex just because I didn’t bother to tell my human they knew they wanted to, but you try working it in smoothly when you’re choking to death on miasma and wondering if the human you’ve been looking for most of your life is going to even give you the time of day. I HAD SOME THINGS ON MY MIND, OKAY?

I should jump away, or yell, or try one of those off-the-cuff exorcisms my Pentecostal friends are so into, but I don’t. It’d be hard for her to be more anviliciously demonic and yet, somehow, that idea isn’t sitting right...no. This is a demon, no question, there’s a strange supernatural frisson to her presence that tells me I’m not just experiencing the best alien abduction ever, but this isn’t a demon _attack_.

You look so. Tasty. Please c’mon please...

It’s in her eyes. This creature...doesn’t mean me harm. Before now I’ve not even been sure I really believe in all the stuff people say they read in each others’ eyes, but her eyes are huge, and expressive, heavily rimmed with black where a human would have that brighter pink, and the proportion and epic lashes and contrast against her pale skin makes them shout, makes them naked, even in the dark. They’re feral, and hungry, and lustful, but there’s no malice, no calculation, just...hope? Pleading? There’s something in her need that just drills through me. It says, “I need you”. It says, “You’re beautiful”. It says, “Please love me”. It’s heartbreaking and beautiful and makes me think that if she does eat me it won’t be on purpose.

Your eyes, so blue, so grey, so pretty, so much deeper seeing them for real instead of reflected in your monitor, like I could sit here trying to figure you out until the Sea dries up, it’s enough to make me forget how much I need this kiss.

Almost.

And your hair’s so blonde! I thought it’d be like mine but less metal. That stupid haircut even kind of looks good all messed up like that, like a lion’s mane or something. Weird to realize I’ve never seen you in proper color before, I never realized how much that monitor didn’t reflect. Why’d you have to hate mirrors and selfies so bad?

And those lips, all big and kissable, I am gonna eat those lips right up...

And she’s _familiar_ , like an old friend I haven’t seen in years, if only I could place her...

Sade’s _balls_ so hungry please come ON. 

Enough.

Self-preservation’s dubious for me lately on a good day, and then, well, this should be a pretty good way to die, and was pretty much the only thing I still wanted to do before I went out anyway. I take her hand and pull her in for the kiss.

Her hand is warm through her glove - she’s wearing long, tight, leather above-the-elbow gloves, and, I realize, matching thigh-high boots - and her lips on mine are...electrifying, a kiss that detonates like a lightning strike. She leads with tongue, seeking with this desperation like she’s trying to drink me and indeed it does feel like she’s tapped into some well in the depths of my soul and is drawing something out...oh. What was I expecting her to be? But it’s not...right. Not wrong in the correct way. It should feel like dying, but somehow the well is inexhaustible, as if she’s such an amazing kisser (and she is absolutely amazing) that it fills me with lust faster than she can suck it out of me. She tastes incredible, sweetness and a musk I can only call just ‘sex’ and some flower I don’t know the name of. It’s exhilarating, and when she’s done I feel stronger, not drained.

Unnfff omigod yum why did I wear clothes for this outing? Guess I’m learning some kinda lesson about vanity or something...

How long does a kiss last? It feels like eternity and no time at all, but eventually - a very long eventually indeed - I have to breathe and when I pull away she’s looking somehow more clear, and licks her lips with a little black tongue. This close I notice she’s got the sparkliest glitter makeup I’ve ever seen on her cheeks.

Something glints at her throat, swinging: a necklace of thin black leather with a small silver heart-shaped pendant, empty in the middle so that it’s just the outline, except that at the point the inside edge curves smoothly, making a shape that recalls the swooping triangle her bikini bottom forms hugging her mound...

Omigod. I did it and I found you and now real live heart-to-heart nectar-to-nectar sex with _you_ fine it’s just a kiss and maybe that doesn’t seem like much but that’s still sex and fucking _yum_.

“Oh my _fuck_ this was worth it. Okay, we need to go. Close your eyes and brace yourself.”

She starts tugging off one of her gloves.

Go? Sure: if you’re going to fail a WIS check, fail it all the way. I close my eyes, and the leathery sound of her glove coming off slithers across me, then her bare hand hot and soft on my cheek, and she kisses each of my closed eyes a bit wetly before planting a hard kiss on my forehead. As soon as the third kiss makes contact, there a wild jump in my chest like I’m an old TV and someone’s changed the channel to another one that’s broadcasting the same show except in color and I’m walloped by the most awful stench you can imagine, nasty like old socks and rotten meat but burning and inorganic like chlorine, and it’s somehow more than a smell, crawling at my skin and burning my eyes like it’s trying to get into my soul and sicken me from the inside out. I’ve had nightmares once or twice about being stuck in a room with a block of subcritical plutonium, and this feels like what the radiation does in those dreams while it kills me.

I gag, but keep it down. “What the hell? What...”

“I taught you my senses a little. I’m still weak and I need your help finding our way through the veil.”

Also you’ll go insane trying to understand limbo without ‘em, but one thing at a time.

Also also let’s get you out from those covers and see if you’re as hot as I’ve been imagining.

“How can you stand this?”

“I can’t, dummy, which is _why we need to go_.”

She grabs my hand, not taking the time to put the glove back on, and bounds backward off the bed, pulling me upright, to the general protest of my sleeping muscles.

Oh baby. Those old gym shorts actually exist? I totally thought they were just a fantasy! Man, even back home those’d be skimpy, and that’s if they _weren’t_ splitting up the sides like that. I hope this is a sign of things to come.

So. Not bad. Kind of...lean, maybe even a little toned here and there. Erm. So. Tall. Neep. Mmm, you smell like...yum...fuck it haven’t cum in watches and watches resistance is for when you _haven’t_ been without your favorite food for like a year I just have to...get my hand into...

Standing, she’s no less epic: more than a head shorter so that (as I catch myself thinking the thought) she could turn her head aside and nestle into the hollow of my chest perfectly, but her long legs place her hips only a few inches below my own, leaving her with a curvaceous, petite torso of hentai-cartoonish proportions. Seeing me look, she starts to carefully work her free hand under the front of her bikini bottom, then stops suddenly and withdraws it, looking stricken.

BLECH EW YUCK miasma in my cunt _PFEH_. Gods and slutshamers that tastes nasty, I guess that was sealed better than I thought. Amazing what’ll work for a mask when you’re horny. 

Ech, it’s _sharp_ , too. You’d almost think they...  


Oh. Oooh dust. You’re a preacher’s kid. Kinda not my favorite detail about you, kinda forgot that one when I ported in here. Fuckity fuck there’s probably a whole nest of perfekti right in the next...

“Need to run! Don’t listen to the whispering!”

Spikes spikes spikes come ON they’ve already noticed us, I can feel the shiver from here...

“What?” As if in answer to my question a coldness that has nothing to do with thermal energy rolls over me, over us to look at the succubus shiver along with me, a freakish coldness that seems to eschew skin entirely and drop straight to the bones, setting deep muscles shivering without raising goosebumps.

Ooogh that was a bad idea...so help me Sade, if I end up being the first succubus to ever die of not being able to keep my panties on I’ll...ugh...

I want to ask what the hell is making us cold, but I’m smart enough to grok: something unfriendly to humans that a demon is also afraid of. Staying bad, running good.

I really seriously hope you got as much me-senses as I thought, because it’s getting hard to even see physical light, let alone the veil-mist. Just how close did I shave this? Would I have crumbled if you’d taken any longer making up your mind about me? Fuck.

It’s the first time out of about seventy six bazillion I’ll wish you could just port humans out of limbo.

A single step toward the door, the fact that I’ve seized her hand again brought to my awareness by the fact that’s she twisting out of my grip, tells me that whatever monster is coming for us is coming via the hall as the cold intensifies closer to the door.

“Something’s outside the door...”

“SPIKES! Do you see fog anywhere else?” 

She’s scrabbling on the floor, picking up something her trembling hands won’t seem to get a good hold of, and for a surreal moment I think she’s gone for my rejection letter from MIT, left there in disgust for months since it had the impeccable timing of arriving on graduation day.

Fog? It comes to me that I don’t just have sleep in my eyes - the room is wreathed in mist, wispy and clinging. It’s rolling under the door like someone is out there with a smoke machine. I cast around the room desperately...there.

“It’s coming in the window.”

A door opens elsewhere in the house, and heavy footsteps approach - startling my infernal visitor - then pause, and retreat, hurried, taking some of the coldness with them.

Spikes and vines and pits and lava, I can feel it from here, we’ll never outrun one that size...what do we...footsteps. Your well-meaning exorcist-wannabe. Who’s already toast anyway. It’s worth a shot, but I hope you don’t get too pissed at me for it.

Now, the question is if this is going to work right or just spike us harder. Um. What was it?

“You guys are...ugh. Can’t think.”

She’s whispering, quick and urgent as one might imagine, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“Ugh. What’s the word. Thing. What kind of hei...how strict your god is.”

She wants to know about parish politics. Sure, why not? They ruin everything else good in my life, why not this too?

“What, like, are we fundamentalists?”

“Yeah. I think. Fundamentalist or...ugh. Words!”

“Mainline? I guess? It’s complicated.”

She shakes her head, then quails from the motion. 

“No, other. Thing where you inherently suck. Believe in.”

Ugh, English, sucking as a valuable skill has got to be the only thing all four houses can agree on.

“Total Depravity? I’ve never liked...”

“Rrrgh! Not you! Them!” 

She waves a trembling hand which clutches something long and narrow I’m too addled to recognize in the direction of the footsteps. As if to punctuate the motion, I hear the glass-fronted case at the bottom of the stairs that keeps my dad’s collection of old Bibles creak open, then crash shut.

“I think so? It’s complicated?”

Look, you try getting a sense of this stuff by watching someone’s sex dreams and impure thoughts and being there in spirit when they wank. I think I’m doing pretty good to have got this far (thank Sade for that one choir girl who definitely always wears open-cup bras, I’d have never heard enough sermons to piece it together otherwise), but oh my god if it isn’t like pulling teeth trying to get out of you how the perfekti that’s currently considering eating us will react to the prayers of whoever’s on their way back down the hall with a bigass holy book (yes, I recognize the sound too. You have some mighty weird thoughts when you cum guiltily).

Anyway I’m getting the idea I’m asking completely the wrong questions. I didn’t really pay attention in Religions of Earth.

Well, nothing for it. I sure hope your family’s got as much sexual guilt and embodiment-shame and hates their Moons as much as I think they do.

“Get out of sight from the door, grab my tail and don’t let go if you wanna live. We do _not_ want this thing to get hold of my body.”

Cannot _believe_ I’m about to do this. I really hope it works.

The rest of this takes a while to tell, but no more than three or four seconds pass at most.

I back against the wall by the door into my room.

The coldness and actinic edge of stench are back, worse than ever.

She presents her tail, so I grab hold and it loops itself around my fists like I would with a rope I really want to keep hold of. It’s naked, bare human-seeming skin the same blue-black color as her wings, and freakishly flexible, soft and fleshy instead of bony like a cat’s tail. There’s something oddly sexual about the whole effect, the flesh suggestively tender and the curves of the barb at the end somewhat explicitly feminine.

Seen from behind, there’s nothing to her bikini top but the leather thongs that hold it on, tied with a half-pulled-out bow, and the matchingly-skimpy bottom is mussed as well, askew and one side scrunched into half a wedgie. Both pieces have decorative extra straps that crisscross and would look awesome and impractical if they were in any sort of order, but they’re in similar disarray. She doesn’t have a lot to do it with, but she looks like she’s been through a hurricane. 

I just barely hear her mumble quickly, through gritted teeth:

“Please don’t be mad at me for possibly feeding your family member to a perfekti that’s probably already eating them...”

She’s squared off in front of the closed door, kneeling and tugging the removed glove back on, and gets it in place just in time for the door to swing open, spreading her wings as it swings.

A wall of fog washes over her, pea-soup thick, and yet I can see through it somewhat like I have IR or UV vision. The coldness, and a blistering smell that’s as if razor blades could rot like meat and then be turned into a vapor without stopping being razor blades, hits like a wall. In my head, there’s a whispering, mechanism’s voice, ranting steadily at the edge of perception, every syllable, word, and phrase taking exactly the same amount of time like an auditory monospaced font. I can’t make out the words but it feels like someone’s taking a chainsaw to my conscious mind. I’d clutch my throbbing temples if my hand wasn’t full of tail.

The succubus looks up at whoever has opened the door, hands raised pleadingly, and purrs, seductive:

“Please fuck me, da—GAH!”

It’s like she’s grabbed by her own personal tornado, whipped towards the doorway like a ragdoll, hair streaming in a silent gale that doesn’t lift even a single dust mote. Her tail goes taut and then slips through my sweat-slippery hands until the blunt back edge of the bony, hand-sized barb at the end collides painfully with my fist and I’m lurched forward, bare feet juddering along the floorboards.

Several things happen at once. There’s another jerk, and she shrieks, voice thick with otherworldly harmonics, and the person in the doorway advances a step into the room and whips open a big, leather-bound book, the only part of them I can see from my vantage point by the door. 

They picked up the Moffat Bible? How random.

The thought hangs drunkenly in front of me for a moment, chainsawed free from context or appropriateness by the constant relentless maddening whispering whispering whispering in head. Head. Head. Soul.

I’m brought back to reality by the sound of a prayer, flat-voiced with shock:

“...sus name I cast you OUT.”

The exorcism does exactly nothing to the succubus, but, there’s a sort of wave that goes through the coldness, and the whispering in my head hitches and stops growing louder. Something’s gone wrong with sound and I can’t decide if the human voice is my dad, mom, or one of my siblings.

There’s a pause, just an instant, where no one moves, and then my family member starts praying desperately, clutching the bible and mumbling so I can’t make out the words except the occasional “LORD” and “LAMB” and “JEESUS” such, hand raised as if to push all this away. After a sentence or two they fall into a rhythm...

I can’t place the voice because it’s like it’s become a part of the whispering, like my family member and whatever is beyond the door are starting to forget whose voice is whose, like there’s a note of the whispering in their voice, and note of their voice in the whispers.

Whatever force has hold of the succubus doesn’t let go immediately, but the pulling stops and she hangs limply in the air, taking heavy choking breaths.

I realize only as it retreats that the angel or demon or whatever it is in the hall had extended a tendril of itself around her, a dim, translucent, barely-perceivable limb of coruscating, angular light like some Lovecraftian tentacle nightmare from a universe that hasn’t invented curves yet, too vague to say that it’s gripping her in any particular way but apparently enough to pull her in. An instant later, she drops to the floor, landing hands and knees with a thud and a relieved exhalation.

For one soulgrinding, horrifying moment, the prayer and the whispering blend into an indistinguishable, unparseable, unspeakable whole that hits with the maddening power of the demon’s - it has to be a demon - evil and the physical force of a projecting human voice, and then...it’s like the prayer and whispering turn in on each other, retreat into each other and into the hall and recede into the distance, muffled and far away. The grip of coldness and stench lessen greatly.

By the time I process all this, the succubus is stumbling across the room and straining weakly at the window where fog rolls in around the gaps. I bound over and throw it open, and she leans on the sill and presents her back like I’m supposed to go for a piggy-back ride. She’s still panting with choking breaths.

“Climb on. Hurry.”

This is a bit dubious, she’s rather smaller than me and I’m not really expecting infernal strength given that she couldn’t get the window open, but I’ll take a twenty foot drop over whatever it is in my hallway any day and so I oblige, nestling against her and putting my arms around her. Even with damnation closing in behind us the liquid softness of her skin and flesh and feathery silken brush of her hair is dizzying.

“Don’t break skin contact with me or you’ll be lost between realities for all eternity.”

Well, that’s not the least bit ominous, but there’s no time to consider the implications because we’re jumping out the window.

This is going to suck so very, very, very much.


	2. Sexual Healing

Her wings blur powerfully, hammering painfully against my chest where I ride her, but they’re obviously more like mating plumage or something than for flying.

The fog rises up in a wall, seemingly faster than we fall, and when we meet it there’s this moment of sickening plummeting piled atop the vertigo of falling from a third-story window, like we’re dropping through a direction that seems to be perpendicular to the very idea of spatial dimensions, and then we drop out of the fog and the grass of the front yard blurs at us and CRACK the impact jars bones I didn’t even know I had and the succubus lets out a piteous yelp that subsides into gasping sobs.

Crack. Crack is bad.

But I seem to be whole.

Shaking the stars out of my eyes and rolling off her, it’s as bad as I thought, one of her shins bent at an ugly angle.

Now what do we do? I start to slide my arms under her to pick her up, but she shakes her head. Through gritted teeth: 

“Nn. Boot off. Quick.”

She takes a panting, juddering breath. 

“Not much time before. Perfekti.”

I start gingerly rolling the boot down her thigh, and she shrieks in pain at the motion of her leg, strange echoing harmonics creeping back into her voice. I can feel the thin whine of ultrasonics tickling at the edge of my hearing like a chorus of huge, unsynced CRTs.

I stop, but she shakes her head and pushes at the top of the boot herself, so I keep going as she weeps and tenses, mascara running with...no, she’s crying black tears. At painful length I have the boot off and things are worse than I thought - it’s a compound fracture, a wicked jagged snapped-off end of silvery shinbone sticking out through a nasty wound that oozes a worrying amount of thick black ichor.

“Set. Bone. Please.”

“I don’t know how!”

So you definitely don’t have a hurt-comfort fetish. Dammit, I was so sure about that one. No, wait, is that a little...? Just a little, I hope it’s enough to keep me from blacking out.

Anyway it’s a damn good thing I’m Sade, even with my superpowers I’m fairly delirious with pain and there’s definitely no subspace anesthesia to be had in this situation.

Also fuck you mom for the Valkyr south node that made me think this would be an acceptable plan in the first place. Regret level one hundred percent.

“Eas...easy. Pull into place. I stretch. Not built...like you.”

I really hope we don’t regret my not knowing what I’m doing, but lacking other options I take hold of her ankle and pull, trying to get this over with as fast as I can. Sure enough, her flesh stretches like, so help me, silicone, and there’s a sickening cracking as the bones slide over each other, falling back into position while she bellows out a heartbreaking, piercing, booming wail of pain that seems to rattle my very soul, and then bites - with surprising gentleness - into my shoulder where it’s near her face.

It pinches, but doesn’t hurt, and is weirdly arousing despite the situation. She licks at the bit of flesh between her teeth with a hot, wet, tongue, whimpering pitifully.

Please please please please please ow please get this. Everything’s going black.

It’s almost like she’s trying to suck...of course. What does a wounded, hungry succubus need? I pull her head from my shoulder, and move down to kiss her, meeting her with open lips and what I hope is an open heart, mentally trying to kick everything out of the path whatever energy she draws out of me takes to get to her.

God dammit. _And_ your mouth is dry after all this drama, too. Well, blood it is, then. I’ll make this up to you, I promise. 

She kisses me hard, tongue probing, sucking both physically and metaphysically, drinking desperately. I do my best to open myself to the flow, to push the lust at her, but it’s weaker than before because of the rather less romantic situation and this seems to limit what she can draw from me. Her tongue pulls at mine and I reach it into her, exploring her hot, sweet-and-floral mouth, trying to focus.

What kind of girl is a hungry, wounded succubus? I’ll risk an assumption or two, and slide my un-ichorous hand down her bikini top in hopes it’ll help.

Some distant part of my mind notes that this is officially the most epic first time to second base story in the history of mankind.

The soft warmth and the way her nipple hardens almost instantly at my touch register as a practically religious (hah) experience and do a lot to stoke the fire of lust inside me she’s drinking from so I lean into it, squeezing and feeling her perfect breast, pinching and stroking the nipple, trying to focus on the sweet, hungry way she kisses me instead of the situation, visualizing behind my screwed-shut eyelids her silver hair and superhuman cleavage. It seems to help, but she doesn’t let up and her hands are slipping limply from my arms where she’s been holding on.

Please, take whatever you need from me. Take years off my life if you have to. Please don’t die.

thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou

The instant the thought crystallizes in my mind, she seizes my tongue in her teeth and pierces it with needle-pointed fangs that definitely weren’t there when we started kissing. It hurts like a motherfucker, but I steel myself not to pull away or break the kiss and

* * *

I’m on my ass next to her, fallen from where I was crouching over her. She’s above me now, we’re still kissing and she’s tearing my soul out through the holes in my tongue. There’s strength in me, but it’s all rushing away into her before I can do anything with it, torn away like a black hole drinks down the photosphere of a star that gets too close. I can’t move a muscle and I can’t see or hear or feel anything but her slippery warm mouth on mine and her teeth in my tongue and the terrible terrible tearing down inside me.

She must be having some kind of effect on me, because my last coherent thought is a lament that I’m going to die a virgin after all, of being eaten by a succubus. Truly, God’s favorite form of humor is irony.

Ooogh. Blood is worse than I thought, I hope can digest this stuff. Wait, why aren’t you...

* * *

No oh god no no no please come back fuck I’m sorry come back...please...

Sight and sound drift back from the edge of the universe, fading in accompanied by a wicked ringing in my ears like I’ve been point-blanked by a flashbang grenade. I’m not dead? Or does hell just come with a splitting headache?

No. Silver hair brushing my face, worried purple eyes. The succubus is still leaning over me, looking a little queasy but much less about to die than before. She leans in to kiss me again and I turn away, pushing clumsily at her with a hand that won’t really obey, my arm screaming with pins and needles and the throbbing pain of a limb that’s been asleep for hours.

“Please let me help. I promise I’m not going to drink any more. Please.”

She’s pulling my face back to hers which is good or bad or something because I don’t have the strength to turn my head any more and just lifting my arm makes my vision blur. Black streaks of tears are dried on her cheeks, and fresh ones stand in the corners of her eyes.

I mouth something, too weak to make sound or know what I’m saying and she reacts by resting her forehead against mine. Hot, floral-smelling tears drop on my face.

“Please baby I’m so sorry, I’ve been so hungry and usually humans like it when I’m hungry I didn’t...please...”

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drink so much. I’ve never had blood before, I didn’t know it would be so... I’m sorry. Please don’t die. Pleasepleaseplease. Please let me kiss you. Please take...oh. You don’t have the strength right now, huh.

Fuck, I’m so sorry. There’s enough left in there for you to take if I put myself in your hand, right? It’s not nonconsensual if I’m saving your life, right? Please? Please...

Something changes in her body language, and she raises her face from mine, still looking at me with kiss-me lips, still crying, then takes the hand I was fighting her with and places it down her bikini bottom. My sense of touch is barely functioning, but I can tell that she’s warm and wet and slick and oh so very soooft. A strange, bloody-minded determination fills me: If I have to be eaten by a succubus, I’m going to get some action out of it, dammit. I gather what little strength I have and explore, ignoring the protests of my dying muscles to feel warm, slick, soft lips sliding through my fingers, mound smooth and warm and soft against my palm.

She coos, and something stirs in me like the fire she ignited with our first kiss, but all of it stays inside me this time. Some feeling returns to my hand, enough to get more than a general impression of pussy-ness. She has what I decide is the super-human bareness of a species that just doesn’t do pubic hair in the first place, and seems impossibly eager - her inner lips part at my touch and I fancy I can even feel them engorge a bit. So human, so not, I wonder if she has a clit...there.

She lets out a shuddering moan and then grits her teeth and I can feel the fire in me grow in a burst. My cock even stirs a little, amazing for the circumstances and how weak I feel, and I understand: she’s doing whatever lust-to-lifeforce conversion succubi do without drinking the result. I lift my head, trembling, and kiss her, and she kisses back, as expert as before, but careful instead of ferally lustful.

It’s like throwing a gascan into your fireplace. Energy blasts through me, painful for an instant and then I have the strength to absorb it. Feeling returns, the pounding in my head subsides, and the pins and needles flee.

Fury. Nothing to do with anger, mind you, there’s just no other word to describe it with, a pressure building in me like the way the caffeine sears through your veins after about the sixth cup of coffee in a row or so. Before I can realize what I’m doing, I’m on top of her, pinning her wrists to the grass with white-knuckled fists and pushing her legs open with my knees—

HELL YES! WHEE!

It doesn’t do anything to subside the rush I’m feeling, but the realization that I’ve just more-or-less judo-flipped someone with a broken leg somewhat harshes my buzz as it were. I go to bound off her as carefully as I can and assess the damage, but as soon as I let her hands free she wraps her arms around me, holding on.

Boo! Don’t stop!

I shudder with guilt when her broken calf hits my bare back, still slick with ichor and then...grips? Strongly, too, the bare ankle and foot wrapping prehensilely around me, warmth and softness contrasting with the angular hardness of the boot on her other leg.

I twist down, and feel her leg, gingerly. There’s what feels like a fresh scab, but the bone where it’s near the skin at her shin feels whole and seamless.

Oh, is that all you were worried about? Silly boy. I’m doing fine now, see?

In response, she plants a little peck on my cheek, and grinds against me, pulling us together as if we can fuck through what’s passing for clothing in this situation.

I could lift cars. I could crush mountains. I could put my hands in a sidewalk crack and split the planet in half. I could throw a pebble at the moon and knock it out of the solar system and the strength keeps building, coiling on itself inside me until I must explode, accompanied by a surge of lust that matches it in intensity throb for throb...

Whoah. You look like you’re about to explode and take half of limbo with you. Gimme some of that, baby!

Please-eyes GO. “Can I have a drink? Pleeease? Sir?”

I seize her by a horn and hold her head down, still pinning her wrist with my other hand.

“No fangs.”

She looks suddenly very serious.

“No fangs. Swear on my Hollow Heart. See?”

She bares human-looking teeth, canines far longer than normal, but by no means sharp.

“Okay. Just don’t do that soul-sucking thing again.”

She shakes her head, straining against my grip, still deadly serious.

“Over-unity only, I promise.”

It’s kinda nice how fast you’ve figured out that horns are for manhandling.

It’s funny, none of this hair-pulling sex-and-violence-on-the-same-plate stuff is my MO, but it surely does feel like me.

By way of response, I lower my head to hers, still not letting her move, and kiss her again— 

Fuuuuck.

Holy.

Fuck.

There’s a bursting feeling like coming, pressure unleashed and blasting out...

H...holy....whoah. What did I just do? My sparkles _hurt_. Am I gonna melt?

It’s not glitter makeup. A light against my closed eyes draws them open, and I’m momentarily blinded, shocking enough that I almost stop both kissing her and grinding atop her. When my eyes adjust, her face and body look like a night sky, brilliant points of light scattered and clustered like freckles, shining a shimmering just-barely-purple.

I’m gonna melt. Or I’m gonna cum. Or cum because I melted or maybe melt if I cum, fuck...

She moans and I can’t tell if it’s pleasure or pain and I don’t get the idea she cares. Somehow, I haven’t come from this explosion of lust, but my dick is hard enough to cut tortured metaphors and has by lucky grinding or succubus skills found it’s way between her outer lips, kept from penetrating only by my shorts and her bikini - and she’s reaching with her free hand for the clasp that holds the latter together.

Fuck DAMN this is intense, I can barely, fuck, c’mon, undo, clit’s burning like my sparkles and it needs to get _ground_ on something and I know exactly what...

There’s something I could swear we’re supposed to be attending to, but subspace is beckoning and you seem to have this situation (and me) under control which is good because I am FUCKING STARVING.

Fuck it, just push it aside...whee, slide! Almost on target that time. You’ve got me wet alright, if I can just get your shorts out of the way...what was that?


	3. The Enemy of the Good

PRAISE PRAISE PRAISE

GLOR Y GLOR Y H AI L

GLOR Y GLOR Y H AI L

PRAISE T H E L AM B

REPENT T H E FLE SH

C AS T O U T T H E

PA RA SI TE REPENT

No! NO! It’s got you right through the head, almost got me, there’s a lock of my hair still pinned to the ground by the tendril that’s coming out through your poor eye. They can’t get in through hair, can they? Tear it out by the roots, just in case. Not like my hair is going to look right again this week anyway.

I thought the thing would be distracted for a while with your housemate but our little lust-fest must have been more interesting or hateable than their prayer because it’s just busted a hole in the wall of your house and spat a baby right on top of us.

Nausea. Vertigo. Pain—

No, sweetie, it’s gonna pull you apart twisting in your head like that, make it...

Rrgh! “Get spiked!”

Rush the thing tail whipping and barb full on sharp, too many tendrils, can’t even get near, what do I do! I am not, I am not coming this far just to lose you to this slutshaming dust!

Your sword! Where did it land? Can I do a solo consecration fast enough maybe?

No way, because there’s the scabbard peeking out from under you. Spikes. _Spikes._

Snif.

Fine then. Let’s go out in style. Come on and dance, slutshamer! RAAH!

PRAISE REPENT PRAISE

The words and their demented rhythm annihilate everything in the universe like barbed wire around the neck between my conscious mind and the rest of me, endless, relentless, grinding away—

Can’t get close, gotta get close, gotta pull you out...no. Remember class. Distract it. Guess the rhetoric pattern, grab a moral, twist it sideways, if I can. Earth, Texas, this one will be Christian...

Just have to open my ears enough to know what rapedust it’s spouting...oogh, yuck WHOAH DODGE.

It’s flinging tentacles at me but I can feel them coming! Hah!

C AS T O U T T H E

PA RA SI TE REPENT

“I’M NOT A PARASITE! I LOVE HIM!”  


Spikes, I’m starting to argue with it, spikes spikes spikes not good...

The abyss of symbols and cold thought judders, just a bit, the tiniest of hitches in the rhythm, and a pedantic thought floats free as if drawn and then released by some tendril through my mind clumsily twisting: She’s not a parasite, parasites drain and possibly kill their hosts. Every time she feeds off me I feel stronger. 

She’s a symbiote.

Something shifts and there’s a weird moment where everything seems to be made of text rendered in the font my programming tools use, and suddenly the monster’s grip feels...less stable.

C AS T O U T - -
    
    
    “I SAID I’M NOT A PARASITE! I LOVE HIM!”

Spikes, I’m starting to argue with it, spikes spikes spikes not good...

The words and rhythm halt and there’s a sort of clunking mental motion like an oldschool disk magazine changing platters, then new words:

T RU E L OV E WAWAITSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTS...

A thunderclap of state transition goes through my mind like touching ice to supercooled water and crystallizing in its wake a cold, bright fury all my own fills me.

Nice shot, asshole, you found my bezerk button on the second try, and managed to do so in the one conceivable situation I actually get to be justified thinking it’s a stupid rule. Shall True Love Wait while she bleeds out? Yeah, you needed me feeling obligated to listen to you, didn’t you?

TSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTS...

The ‘TS’ is repeating relentlessly like the sound of a music player that’s crashed but left its ring buffer playing. Apparently the thing doesn’t have an answer.

The whispering changed, what...fuck. I can’t believe there’s actually a way to make these things creepier, but here it is. It’s like, stuck, the whole thing’s just frozen there kind of shivering instead of doing the zooming around symbols thing. Hell,if I was better with Infernal and stupid enough to try I could probably read it but I like being s...well. I like being _sexily_ insane.

A connection is open, fully bidirectional, a link for letting one mind connect to another at some level more complete than speech, and there is no flow control, no security, no defenses, and as if the sense that lets me pick apart programs and see the parts all laid out like a map, moving together and performing their functions has been supercharged along with my cock by the succubus’ ministrations, I can see the thing from the inside out through the connection.

It’s a tangled mess, no real structure or design or coherence, but I’ve spent enough nights awake tracing game logic disassambly to get a vague sense of the thing.

Surreally, it clicks that the thing that’s been ranting religious slogans at me doesn’t believe in God, doesn’t believe in anything at all: it’s not alive. It doesn’t hate or feel or think, it’s just a Markov chain generator with a bigass corpus of religious-sounding text hooked to some weird shit that seems to account for motion and sensing and stabbing you in the mind, all wrapped around a tangled-up sort of state-machine thing.

There’s an actual, literal ring buffer repeating ‘TSTSTS...’, and I’ve killed the process that fills it by sheer force of will. I wipe it from existence, zeroing the bits with a thought, and the maddening consonant buzz goes silent.

It got quiet.

I unstop my ears all slowly, waiting for the whispering to grab me, but it’s actually stopped. Perfekti don’t shut up. They _can’t_ shut up, that anyone knows. What’s going on?

It tried for a stick to hit me with. Instead, it’s found the apoplectic rage of having a machine just stop responding and hard-lock for no discernible reason after you’ve been awake banging on the same stupid bug for forty hours.

It’s found a whole childhood of loving and hating machines like it is and wanting so very, very often to hurt them, avenge myself on them like they’re a living being for being so damnably obstinate.

It’s found the cold, methodical fury, the monster that lives in my head instead of my heart and picks apart messes like the joke it is for days without sleep or food just to understand what has gone so wrong with the universe, what lesion has opened on the face of Logic, that this bug can ever happen.

I could wipe the thing from existence with a thought, zeroing the bits as I did with its voice, but I’m too angry for that. I want it to _hurt_.

True love waits? You dare?

You wanted me emotionless, cut off from my heart and body and humanity. Looks like it worked, _bitch_. I’d laugh if I still had feelings.

It just jumped. Did you...did you just _sting it back_? It’s pulling purple symbols out of your head, like the color of my sparkles. What does it mean that it’s pulling my color out of you? Oh my fuck, it’s not pulling, you’re _pushing_. It’s moving again, but I don’t think it’s gonna be throwing tentacles anytime soon. Is it...trying to push back? The fuck?

I’ve got your true love right here you fucking piece of crap. Let’s see what I can do without a conscience. You have no feelings, but _I will teach you the meaning of pain_.

Your face right now would make my mom hide in a corner.

There’s another clanking mode change and it tries to withdraw the tendril, but the icy determination of the third sunrise in a row trying to make this goddamn shader work no matter what nVidia’s insane floating-point model thinks about things holds it fast.

The fuck? Is it...stuck in you? What is it doing? It’s trying to get away, let it go, dumbass! Don’t hold...

You aren’t going anywhere until I say, motherfucker, and right now what I say is to look up your own PID and kill minus nine yourself you stupid.

I frame the rage with a metaphorical destination address, and force it down the connection, image of slamming an enter key so hard the keycap shatters in my head, ridiculous but also apparently effective.

Fucking.

Slam.

_Bot._

SLAM.

Wait, all the tentacles turning around and reaching inside it right into the middle where it’s all dense and bright, is it going to...holy fuck DUCKING NOW!

There’s a shattering explosion that echoes through the neighborhood like thunder, and I drop to the ground, head pounding.

Symbols blasting over us like a sandstorm but they’re not substantial enough to hurt and they’ve already faded away before they can hit the ground.

It exploded. It slutshaming _exploded_.

“Lilith Sade Valkyr and Venus, what did you just do? Did you just make a perfekti kill itself by _thinking_ at it?”

My eye. My eye is...fine? The monster’s tendril seems to have passed through me like water, even as it explodes. I become vaguely aware that I’ve dropped to my knees, and rise tottering, clutching the lingering sensation of icepick through my eye and thawing from the frozen programmer’s rage that’s overcome me, sick with the suddenly-uncorked rush of it.

Oh my...oh my god. Oh god. You’re getting up. How are you getting up.

I’m teetering, but all the parts are coming back online. I feel human again, mainly by feeling like shit.

The succubus is standing rigid before me, hands clutched over the mouth of an abjectly terrified expression, backing away one little half-step at a time. She’s stopped glowing and I have to admit that the mood _is_ a bit broken.

“What...what _are_ you? How did you _do_ that?”

A last shred of the rage vomits up. “I’m sick and fucking goddamn tired of fucking spambot bullshit following me around is what I am. Did I fully kill it?”

You’re getting up and you see me but you don’t sound like you. “Are you you?”

What? The rage and hate have fled, leaving only a sick sadness behind. What is she...oh. Monster tentacle to the brain, _am_ I me anymore? It didn’t feel like the thing got anywhere, but maybe it was sneaky?

“I feel like me and I feel like shit.”

I stumble forward and concern seems to win against fear because she’s suddenly at my side, supporting me. I nestle my face in her hair, drinking in her musky and floral and hard-candy body odor, and it clears the throbbing from my head a bit.

I put my hands on her, just holding onto her side and hip for support, but I can’t help appreciating her curves and smooth skin that’s just not _quite_ human in some way, and there’s that electricity that passes between us when she’s feeding, just a tiny bit. It feels comforting, already familiar by comparision to everything else.

Jeez, don’t you stop? Not that I mind, but if I’m able to lick anything off you right now I guess “I have a headache honey” is not going to be a problem I ever deal with with you. Lean into you and draw a bit through our skin contact, what do I get? It’s really slow, but that’s the idea.

You don’t taaaaste like a perfekti zombie. I’m pretty sure they can’t do honest lust like this.

“Say something.”

You take a big breath through my hair and it tickles and I smile despite myself. I shouldn’t be surprised how much you’ve got me wrapped considering this is like the third time in three ges I’ve almost died trying to snare you.

“What?”

I just...I need to know. I need to know I saw what I saw. Maybe I just wanted to see it. Limbo can be tricky like that. “Say something a perfekti couldn’t say. Talk to me like a person.”

There’s crunchy boom from the wall up there where the baby came out and bits of house and dust fall all over us. I start trying to back us away from the house, slowly so that maybe it won’t notice us or something. I want to just bolt but something’s like stuck inside of me and I can’t either leave you or take you with me right now.

I hate perfekti so much.

“What the fuck _was_ that thing?”

“Nobody really knows. They’re called perfekti. They’re not demons, or at least they don’t work like us and they don’t seem to have a favorite passion. We think they eat prayer, but maybe they’re just attracted to it, they like churches and temples and stuff too. Don’t seem to give a fuck what religion.”

“They eat prayers.”

“Yeah, creepy, right?”

My addled head throbs, pounding like an upended library, questions spilled everywhere.

“What are you? You’re a succubus, right?”

“Yes, honey. Succubus of the house of Sade.”

She’s pronouncing a long ‘A’ rather than appearing to be talking about grass, but:

“Like the Marquis de Sade?”

“Who?”

One step, two, three. Hell of a first dance, this.

Oh. Obviously: he’ll have named himself after her people, not the reverse.

“When you feed on me, I don’t feel drained.”

“Trees don’t make the sun go out. I eat lust, not your soul or whatever.”

Spiking stereotypes, jeez.

“Though, it’s kinda fun to suck on.”

Grin, just a little. That’s a happy thought.

That...why am I so anxious to get a moment of peace in which to let her try that?

“I’ve seen you before. In my dreams.”

“Yeah. And fantasies, when you were paying attention. We’ve been together a while.”

“But this is real.”

Well, how real is anything in limbo? But you and me, we’re real. And we’ll real-ly get our asses killed here if we don’t keep moving.

“Yeah.”

“You act like you’re in love with me.”

There’s no data for this beyond her being upset at my almost dying which could have any number of reasons behind it, and so I’m surprised when it comes out of my mouth, perhaps an artifact of my rattled state. Yet, I have some sense, there’s something about her way toward me that goes deeper than seduction...

Meh. Like I can even read _humans_ at this resolution. I could be seeing anything.

“I am.” Please get it together, baby. Please be you. Pace, pace, pace...

“Don’t demons not really do that sort of thing?” 

Close enough, this is you talking alright. I wish it was something else to confirm it...

Also I didn’t think you’d pick now for the big heart-to-heart. It’s so easy to forget how much you have to learn. “We do and I’ll explain later, let’s get the hell out of here before mama mindrape machine up there figures out what happened.”

“There’s _more_ of those things?”

She points a finger up at the house behind use and I look up and...the house is all wrong. I take a desperate look around. The yard is all wrong, the sky is wrong, everything is wrong, distorted, colorless or lurid, and the sky is the starless no-sky black of an empty skybox in an unfinished FPS map.

“I think it got me after all. My vision’s all wrong.” I’m trying to stumble away from the house on general principles, but without the healing scent of her hair the vertigo is still pretty bad and I can’t move very fast.

She’s following along, or leading me, or something. 

“Spikes. What’s wrong?”

“Everything looks the wrong size and wrong color and the sky is gone.”

Her relief is palpable, perhaps literally. Does she make, like, pulses in the little flow of energy that’s passing between us because we’re touching, to emote? I pose the question to myself but can’t process any possible answer right now.

“No honey, we’re in limbo. We dropped through the mist on the way out the window, remember? Look at your house again, but come on.”

Wait, fuck damn. I ported into _that_? No wonder the landing almost shredded me, I feel like a badass getting through those walls in one piece at all. You must’ve really missed me! Funny to think they damn near killed me and now two ges later they’re saving our life slowing down the perfekti like that.

Thank Sade we went out the window, I’d hate to think what the inside of that place looks like in limbo.

She’s increasing her pace, pulling my tottering steps along, but I get a look back at the house. She’s right, we’re in a nightmare. In daylight, our new house is a bog standard McMansion with a perfectly flat and featureless front yard. It’s not expensive or big, more tiny dormers and miniature porch steps piled on top of each other than actual space or quality. I hated it the minute we moved in and haven’t changed my opinion, but here it’s something else entirely - against the empty sky there towers a massive brutalist concrete bulwark in the shape of a suburban house, but of monstrously distorted proportion. My window is at the top of at least sixty feat of featureless concrete terminating in a blunt obelisk of a tower, and the front windows are tiny thin bullet-slits with chainlink shields over them. The front door is just a blank piece of steel without hinges or a keyhole, and the wooden cross that hangs from it in reality is here practically the size of the door, wreathed in razor-wire (it’s got a little crown of thorns on the top in the real world). Around the base of the walls, the cutesy ankle-height rosebushes my mom so loves have become towering, tangled and gnarled masses of red blossoms and foot-long thorns worthy of a Disney movie; it’s this that the succubus was flapping so desperately to avoid when we jumped. Everything is lit by an unreal non-light that comes from nowhere like someone’s first 3D render where they didn’t understand lighting yet so they just cranked the ambient light until they could see.

The rest of the neighborhood is distorted the same way. Our driveway and yard are about nine hundred feet long, and the other houses are all over the map - there’s one that looks like a third-world prison, and another one’s facade is dominated by a giant bust at least eighty feet tall that I think I recognize as the neighbor who’s always blowing the lack of leaves back and forth across his dusty yard.

And so on. Some of the cars crouch like sleeping beasts while other seem to actually be made entirely of rust. There’s a truck with a ‘25 cents per ride’ arcade coin slot, and parked down the street is just a twenty foot black rubber dildo with off-road tires.

The one and only mercy is that the stench from before is all but gone, and she’s not suffocating that I can tell.

“What the fuck is this place?”

Seeing that there’s a kind of method in the madness seems to steady me a bit and I’m able to pick up speed, switching from leaning on her to holding hands and we’re limp-running down the road away from my house, where this shimmering white tentacle thing pushes at a hole in the wall near my window.

“Things are what people think of them here, it’s like, you know how if you look at the surface underwater, there’s like a reflection of everything but it’s all distorted because waves? We’re inside that. Except I guess it’s more like the surface between ice and water than water and air. That’s why everything kinda stays put.”

“My house is a fortress.”

“You guys must have done some pretty serious ritual to get that, that’s more than just perception for sure. I almost died getting into your room.”

We’d gone through every room, praying for protection, when we moved in. Apparently it did something. But...

“Then how did the monsters get in? How did you?”

“They were already there when you built the walls, baby. They love families like yours, probably they’ve been happily trapped since you did the ritual.”

That’s...not how prayer is supposed to work.

“But how did you get in?”

“You must have missed me like whoah, you must have helped pull me through, or I’d be splattered all over the limbo side of your room right now. There’s no way I got through that on my own, I mean I’d like to think I’m good with a pentacle, but _fuck_.”

Looking at the tendril, I start to grok that I’m seeing an arm of the thing that attacked us in my room and dropped the monster I didn’t actually see before killing mercilessly on us, unobscured and in it’s element. Instead of vague unseeable light, it’s a white mass of whirring symbols, blurring into a sort of general tentacle shape, somehow freakishly impossible to look straight at. 

My head pounds again on seeing it, and I remember the healing between her lips from before.

“If I kiss you but I’m too hurt to be into it at the moment can you still do what you did after you took my blood?”

She shakes her head, I think, as we stumble along.

“I need something to work with, I can’t feed on what you don’t feel. Are you sure? I’m getting a little off you just from being held.”

Rub up against you a little. Wish we’d had time to negotiate if I’m allowed to feel you up yet.

“I dunno. I feel weird.”

I steal another look at the tentacle eating up the side of our house. Well, there’s one thing I feel at the moment. “I think I can run now anyway. Where are we trying to go?”

You can run? Good, because we need to fucking GO. “I dunno. Away from here. Someplace safer.”

I grab your hand and bolt, and you more or less keep up, thank Sade. I wonder if I could just carry you right now? I’m still buzzing with the energy you face-fucked me with before.

No. We don’t have time for any spikings no matter how cute the image is.

“Can we get back to the real world? Aren’t those things a lot weaker there?”

“Yeah, but we’d be stuck until I found another crack like your window and the miasma’d slow me down then, and people’d probably notice me. I can’t really do the fangs-away-look-human thing.”

I try to imagine 1) the probability of meeting anyone out here at whatever hour it is (nonzero, which is too much) and 2) their reaction to seeing her, and see her point. Maybe we’ll stick with the mindrape demons.

“That smell. What _was_ that?”

How the fuck do you explain miasma while dragging a perfekti-addled human across limbo at a dead run?

“It’s like...you’ve seen how people around here are about sex, right? I’d tell you to imagine if you could smell that, but you just did. There’s places on Earth where it’s not too bad, but here it’s...ugh. So strong it hurts, I’ve never seen anything like it. For whatever reason it doesn’t get through the veil very much.”

Run, come on. Right out the driveway, I think I saw some kind of empty space that way. Oh dude a lightpost shadow we can hide in! Just dive widdershins and OOF.

“I would’ve thought...you’d like...a hypersexualized culture.”

She’s in shape, I’ll give her that, able to speak normally despite running flat out while I’m beginning to have to pant in between words.

“Hypersexualized is great, it’s all the rapeyness and slutshaming and gender-role coercion and conquest-objectifying and dust like that that’s poison.”

God damn but the suburbs are creepy. It’s bad enough on the material plane but in limbo it’s spiking terrifying like I’m going to fall through the ground and just plummet through untouched space for the rest of time. Nothing is real, nothing is itself, nothing has any history or story to grab onto and everytime I think I see a dark corner or forgotten shadow to fold us into for a moment of safety I just fall on my ass instead. Is there not a single un-accounted for pebble here?

“I think...they missed some things...in my sex ed classes.”

“You have no idea.”

Well, all we can do is run. You don’t seem to notice my blundering, thankfully, but it’s going to be a problem finding somewhere we can do even the most half-assed consecration around here, this is way worse than the places I was hunting before. The stench of perfekti wafts off everything, everywhere so I can’t get an idea where they might actually be hiding. Aren’t there even any cacodemons or gluttons around? Don’t the Towers love America? I knew the perfekti were occupying this planet, but this is out of control. Keeping them off you while I was incubating didn’t even feel like anything, and now we can’t go two cubits without tripping over one?

“I need someplace open, where people don’t go much. Away from houses or churches.” I wish I’d paid more attention in Religions of Earth. Is there anything else around that will breed perfekti?

“There’s a park around somewhere...but I don’t...recognize anything.” Pant. “I only just moved here.”

“Oh my fuck I know you were gone when I got back here and I thought I’d never find you again! I must have gone through half a shoggoth worth of porting ink jumping around this planet looking for you.”

Fuck. Was that out loud? Guess I’m kinda stressed.

“What?” Find me again? There’s not time, though, something’s starting to whisper at the edge of my hearing. I put on the remaining speed I’ve finally found and drag us around a corner, seeing a construction site I recognize that’s been stuck on some kind of permitting problem or something since we moved here down the road, which hopefully will suffice for her open place.


	4. Oral Event Horizon

It smells like perfekti just like everything else does, but so far as I can tell there’s nothing of any species around. Safe, I guess? We’re climbing under a busted fence into a dug-up field, dirt like the Grove back home except that it’s like...gross instead of soft? More...dusty. Ew. I guess the beginning of a new human-house being made. Weird to think of getting new rooms with machines. I don’t know how we’d even do that for Sade Hall if we had to.

We shouldn’t be here. Creepy feeling, nonconsensually crossing an obvious boundary like this without the Rocks going off. i feel so unsafe here! You’d think I’d get used to it crawling around the material plane for months, but you never really do. God so homesick.

There. There’s kind of a center to the field. In Limbo the place of power shows as a vague mound in the dirt that’s a sorta different shade of not-color. It’s weak sauce but it’s the best we’re going to do.

There’s a house-frame nearby that no one gives a fuck about: it’s practically transparent, and looks badly built even to my eyes that haven’t technically seen a wood house before.

Alright, what the crap do we have here. One messed up human with apparent superpowers. One rather stressed out but at least still glowing Sade. One boot on my foot and one in my hand.

She stops to take stock, and it finally clicks that the long thin thing she’s been studiously bringing along is a sheathed sword.

The odd thought that I always wanted a sword drifts through my head. I found out once you can commission someone to forge you an authentic Ulfbehrt down to the steel made in an eleventh-century smelter for only $9000. I kind of have this promise to myself that when I’m a rich and famous game dev (okay, rich and famous startup victim more likely), I’m going to get one and hang it over the bigass stone fireplace I’m going to have and tell people about how it’s a replica of what my viking ancestors used to terrorize everyone ever for centuries.

...and then it suddenly sort of clicks that maybe all that stuff is currently in some question. We’ve been too busy running away, almost dying, or almost fucking for anything like that to really set in. I was going to college THIS year, too. Even if explaining how I want to take a gap year in hell with my succubus...what? Girlfriend?...were an option, you can’t exactly just add that in six months before the fact.

And it’s odd. Maybe it’s the adrenaline, maybe it’s watching the succubus just about bounce herself out of her bra getting the boot back over her sticky ichor-covered leg and then grin naughtily when she catches me watching, maybe it’s demonic magic or maybe it’s just the perspective that comes from repeatedly almost dying, but I just completely don’t give a shit. Granted, it probably helps that the college in question was going to be Texas Hicks & Jocks instead of MIT, but I don’t even feel anything about the fact that a big one of those Markov chain monster things is probably chewing on my family right now.

“One of those things is eating my family right now, huh.” It’s utterly flat, something I say because I think I should.

She’s using the point of the sword’s sheath to draw a double-bordered circle around the little dirtpile we’re standing on, and stands up from this task to answer.

“It’s been chewing on them for years, by the smell back there. Sorry.”

“Why didn’t it ever get me?”

“When you were a kid it did, pretty bad, I think. I almost didn’t manage to implant because of it.”

“What?”

“Fuck, right. There’s been no one to tell you where succubus babies come from. I keep not thinking of that.” 

Now she’s writing something in the dust between the borders of the circle. Probability that a pentagram inscribed in the inner circle is next: 103%. 

“Can that wait? There’ll be plenty of time, I promise, or we’ll be too dead to care.”

“Okay. Is my family dead?”

She stops drawing to come up and give me a hug. 

That’s it, feel me a little. I’m all soft and comforting and breasty, see?

“No, baby. What you saw before has been the status quo for a long time.”

“But, it almost killed us like twice. We jumped out the window to get away.”

Ugh, we don’t have time for this. How can I sum up? At least I can apparently talk while drawing a liturgical circle. Just need focus lines...no, self, not a pentagram. If only. Soon. If he did whatever that just was to a perfekti he could probably even stick mom to a ceiling.

“Um. That’s kind of my fault. I kinda mess up the distinction between spirit and body. If we had time I’d take you back across the veil and show you how I tear it up when I’m on the material plane. The perfekti at your house will be back to messing with their heads and making them feel guilty for wet dreams by now.”

“I see.” She seems to be finished. Is that a cross? It kind of looks like the logo for the space agency in some scifi, a pair of lines in the circle making a V crossed across what would be the top of the V by a sort of horizon line.

And the weird thing is, about my family, I don’t care. I feel like the fact that I got out alive from a nest of monsters is way more real and important than the slow nothing those monsters are inflicting on my siblings and parents. I’m not Harry Potter living under the stairs, but lately there’s been some...stuff. In a normal life it might take me decades to admit, but the truth is, they can have their monsters. If I’m understanding what I saw back there right, I don’t think they’d actually even consider perfekti to _be_ monsters.

I should ask what it says that I _do_ consider them monsters, but I’m not really sure I care.

“You haven’t said why the perfekti didn’t get me? Did they?”

“I was protecting you. I’ll explain, I promise. We need to do this right now.”

God, this is so fucking sluggard. Even if I did take time to think up a collect what would it even say? I’m half expecting Valkyr vimself to show up and bitchslap me for this. I wish there was time for a proper ritual...at least we have cum and nectar. Right?

“So question, horny teenager: How fast do you think I could make you cum?”

That’s...eh, actually it’s not even a bit random given everything so far. “I’m almost twenty.”

“Fine, horny young human. How fast?”

“With you, in my bed? Maybe like five seconds if your pussy tastes half as good as your mouth.” Wait, what? Did I just actually say that?

Hah! Yes!

“Here in the middle of this darkass cold construction site being hunted by robot mindrape demons, in this weird fucked-up alternate universe, with my head still pounding from almost getting pwned by one of Satan’s own spambots?” She grinned at the last one and so I go for it: “You’re really hot and I guess technically you might literally be some kind of sex god, but there are limits.”

God dammit. I kind of thought so, though.

This is the second time in a quarter watch I’ve had to use blood instead of cum for something. This had better not be a trend.

“Alright then, we’re gonna have to use blood instead. ‘s gonna take more, sorry.”

“I might die if you drain me like that again.”

Your expression is already saying the same thing.

“No no, sweetie. I just need to draw some for the rite. I’m not even gonna drink it. I think with ichor and nectar it’ll do the job.”

“Nectar?”

In response, she licks a finger, and presses it, tasting of her mouth, to my lips.

“I’d give you some of the good stuff from my pussy but I’m too stressed out to be wet.” Which is saying something, for me.

“I’ll make sure you give me some later.” Who the hell is running my mouth? Is this me?

Hehe. Not gonna be hard, though you’ll be.

Her giggle doesn’t exactly discourage this raunchy new leaf I’m turning over.

“Alright, I’m trusting you on this. I’m trusting you on a lot of things. I _should_ be assuming you’re just keeping me alive long enough to eat me, but I don’t think that’s how you work.”

“I know. Trust means a lot where I come from, so thanks.”

Okay, okay, think. How much can you strip down a consecration and still have it work? What are the elements of narrative weight here? So glad I payed attention in Liturgical Engineering even though I’m not any kind of top.

“And no, I’m not an incubus. Not planning to eat you...well. You are pretty tasty and there is some of you I wanna put in my mouth, but I don’t think that’s what you mean. Like I said, trees don’t make the sun go out.”

That’s...surprisingly arousingly predatory, especially given the situation.

Succubus who loves me, robot ghost things that eat prayer and chant Christianese at you, how am I supposed to make a moral judgment about any of this?

Okay. The sword. Got. It needs a story, got one of those by now I suppose.

She pinches her brow, thinking.

Grar! Why can’t this just be part of our Hollow Heart Rite like it should be? I’m so pissed about that. Way to kill the romance.

Okay, get it together, self. You have enough elements. What’s the story that puts them together? Just think...okay. Here goes.

She looks like she’s about to say something important, then just sort of deflates into embarrassment.

Spikes. This is so humiliating. In all the years I was with you, couldn’t you have had an egotistical fantasy even once? Is there something wrong with the idea of a girl shouting your name while she cums?

“So um. This is kind of embarrassing, but...um. Look, I do know you, okay?”

Um, sure. I nod.

“I wouldn’t have grown up so sexy and strong without you having a nice healthy fantasy life and giving me plenty to learn. But um, you have some kind of a thing about your name showing up in your fantasies.”

Wait, is she telling me she’s seen my fantasies but doesn’t know my name? Actually, that’s interesting. I really hate my name. It’s the same as my dad’s, so people always confuse us, and it’s one that’s eminently mockable to the grade-school mind. I’m kind of gratified to discover that I’ve never let it into my fantasy world.

“You don’t know my name, huh.”

She shakes her head, looking at the ground. You can’t blush with ichor instead of blood, apparently, but she’s trying her darnedest.

“Does the name I use for this have to be my like...the one my parents gave me?” I’d been going to ask if it had to be my legal name, but I’m having a hard time believing that the dark forces of the abyss care what’s on my birth certificate.

“No. Just the one you feel like is you.”

What would that even be? I’ve had the usual succession of gaming handles and tumblr URLs, but they never stick either. “I’m not sure there is one of those.”

Whoah. Well, that’s interesting. Can we work with that? We can work with that. Will doing it this way fuck up our Hollow-Heart Rite? Talk about ratcheting the stakes...well, banzai, as the hentai girls say.

“I have an idea, then. But you’re going to have to name the sword, instead.”

She holds up the sword as if to emphasize this.

“Make it a good name. You have to believe it. Don’t tell me yet, just pick it so we’re not standing around waiting for you in the middle of the rite when it’s time.”

“Alright. Can I look at it?”

“Yeah, but it’ll be more epic if the first time you’ve drawn it is in the rite.”

I nod, and take the sword from her. You’d expect something more phallic from a succubus armorer, but then maybe I’ll be non-surprised when I do draw it. Assuming the scabbard is close-fitting, it’s a mid-length, straight blade, heavy and broad like a western sword, but the point of the scabbard is one-sided like a katana. The handle is plain, leather wrapped, and fits my hand with a sort of familiar perfection like I’ve held it a million times already. No jewels or anything, just a bit of steel-colored metal protecting the end of the scabbard and the pommel. The hilt is plain and made of something with a grain like glass-filled plastic or horn (from what, I wonder), a small handguard like more like a kitchen tool than a weapon.

What do you call a sword? Ulfbehrt? How generic. BLLOOOOODDD REAVER. Friend of mine has a boffer sword he calls Faux Hammer. Narsil. Name it like I’m a goblin? Basher. Biter. Nah. Right direction, though. Name it like I’m possibly about to marry a succubus or something. Hmmm...

You get that ‘mwah hah’ look I’ve seen looking back at us in the glare of your monitor sometimes before dropping into the thing where you can change reality in the game you’re playing. So easy to get you inspired in those moments...

“Got a name in mind?”

You nod, so I drop the bomb.

“Alright, the next part is to come up with a new name for me.”

“Like a pet name?” I can think of a few of those, hot stuff...where is this coming from? Did the symbol-monster’s mental assault backfire somehow?

“A little more serious than that. Same deal, you have to believe it. It has to be a name you’ll think when you look at me and actually believe it’s my name. No half-assing or temporary crap.”

“You don’t have one already?”

“I do, and I’m not telling.”

“I barely know you!”

She stands up straighter and folds her arms for effect (said effect apparently being cleavage, thus confirming my name idea for the sword).

“Don’t be so sure about that. Plus we need to do it for the rite, and anyway don’t you think it’s kind of romantic?”

It was a passing thing, but the moment where she called me ‘Sir’ before keeps rattling around my head for some reason, and she does have a kind of a BDSM thing going. I risk another assumption: “Tell me your name. That’s an order.”

Whoof, you totally believed that was gonna work. I swear my hollow heart amulet moved from it. I know I sure did. Things are going to be interesting after...

“Can’t compel me without a Hollow Heart Rite! Nnnn!”

She sticks out her tongue, purply-black against her pale lips.

I sigh. “Alright, look. I’m trusting you on a lot that this matters this much, and I’m not stopping to talk it over because one of those soul-digging head-cracking things is going to show up any second and I’m assuming we’re trying to do something to defend ourselves.”

“We are. I promise. I’m going to make all this trust so worth your while when we’re not about to die.”

“Let me think.” I pinch the bridge of my nose (I’ve never noticed if I do this before. Do I do this? Is she rubbing off on me after like half an hour?) and ponder, but it’s hanging there in front of me as soon as I quiet my thoughts. “Okay.”

“That was fast.”

“I dunno, it just felt obvious. Now what?”

Please don’t let it be something lame. Pleeeeease don’t let it be something lame.

“Okay. Here’s the deal. It’s both our souls powering this, so you need to understand what you’re doing, you can’t just follow along or go through the motions. Your wishes and intents matter here. So, you want me, right?”

“You seem pretty...”

So tricky. I think...I _think_ this won’t mess up the dynamic we’re trying to create. Grab your hand and put it on my breast...ooh, you like that, mm...

“No, like, selfishly, not whether you think I’m a nice person.”

Right, demon of lust. I probably should have got that on the first try. Anyway, I’m not going to not squeeze and enjoy once she’s actively put my hand there, and the flesh is so soft in my hand, pressing around my fingers.

“I was about to have sex with you in my front yard after meeting you like two minutes before. Does that count?”

“You’re getting the idea. The way this works is, you’re going to summon me - sorta - and bind me to serve and please you, and then use the energy behind how much we both want that to consecrate the sword to making sure nothing takes me away from you. And you’re going to have to do it all fast and informal, because we have exactly no time before the perfekti show up.”

“Do you really...”

“Relax, I don’t think it’s even gonna stick for more than a few hours with how fast and loose we have to play this, and anyway if it does, _I’m_ not going to be upset.”

Yeah, you like that idea more than you wanna think about right now, huh. If I can just keep you off balance enough not to flip out and do that fragmented thoughts thing we might live through this...

“So here’s the deal. You need to mix our blood and ichor and sprinkle it around the circle. Then I’ll be standing outside the circle with the sword and you’ll bring me into it. Grab me by the neck or something, don’t give me a choice.” 

Viktor swears you’re going to have to have things explained to you, I don’t believe him, but just in case: “Don’t be too gentle. If you hurt me I’ll just like it and it’ll help. Once you’ve got me in the circle, you should take advantage of me somehow. Like, hurt me or feel me up or kiss me or something, just don’t give me a choice. Then push me down on my knees.”

Yeah that’s right, no safeword and this is what I call negotiation. I am Hollow Heart and yes actually we _are_ all suicidal maniacs who think the power of love makes us invincible. Thank you for being the first person ever to notice this, I’ll be sure to spread the word and make sure everyone around the Abyss is aware of this great new insight.

Anyway incubators and dreams kind of get to sidestep negotiation and we’re in a bit of a rush and what could go wrong that a safeword would fix here?

When things that are what my mom thinks the soul of a computer looks like aren’t trying to eat us, there is seriously going to be some serious discussion of some serious things.

I mean, it’s not a real live summoning, but it _means_ the same thing. That’ll work, right? Right? Once I’m being physically dragged it doesn’t matter if I organized the whole thing, right? This is _so_ topping from the bottom, but what else am I going to do?

“I’ll give you the sword along with some pretty words I’m sure I’ll have figured out what they are by then. You need to tell me you summoned me and how you brought me here to please you and that you’re binding me to you and tell me my new name. Then tell the sword what its name is, and then draw it as epically as you can without like, accidentally beheading one of us or something, and tell us you’ll use it keep me.”

“Okay.” Can I remember all this? I guess we’re going to find out. There’s not exactly time for a rehearsal.

She seems to consider something. 

“And look. Don’t take it or me all reverently or something or you’ll mess up the ritual. Check it out, make sure you like it, then do the drawing and naming. Same with...” Ulp. “...same with me. Need that for narrative weight.”

She sounds a little bit choked on the last bit, for which I can’t blame her.

Yeah saying that definitely didn’t feel like tearing myself in half or anything. No big.

I know I’m totally tying up like seventeen different things in a big ball here, okay? Yes, I should be naked for this but there’s not time. Yes, we should actually fuck and it should be an actual summoning circle if we’re going to use summoning as one of the drivers and I know the blood and ichor thing is a total hack and yes...

Ugh. It’s not supposed to matter how you feel at the time as long as you believe the elements and the stories, as long as they actually mean something. I really hope that’s for real.

“Okay, here we go. Just need the sacrifice. Ready to get bit?”

Telling myself that when I live to regret this I’ll at least be able to say I lived, I hold out my wrist and she takes my hand, kissing the wrist suggestively for a moment before baring her fangs and biting down. I’m trying to steel myself but I kind of have a thing with needles and wince anyway. So much for looking smooth.

She licks off the blood that’s welled up and then bites herself on the upper arm just beyond the end of her glove, squeezing to push ichor through the holes. It’s thick and sort of oozes instead of flowing like blood.

“Quick, takes this. Other hand, silly.”

I cup my non-bleeding hand under the wound and she squeezes maybe a few cc of ichor into it.

“Alright, mix your blood into that and sprinkle, and then here we go.”

Right, blood’s dripping off my other hand. I hold it over the cupped one and find that by clenching my fist I can get some more flow. Fifty-fifty, I guess? Two fluids, different consistencies, different colors. As I stir with a finger, I’m reminded dementedly of mixing up epoxy.

My blood thins the ichor enough that it’ll splatter. I tip the hand and run a ring of drops around the circle and when I get back around to face the succubus she’s doffed her bikini bottom and is working at the closure on her top, lip bitten in concentration.

Any other time I’d stop and have a good look, but there’s still blood left so I do another revolution, rubbing the remainder into my palms when no more will fall from them.

Hell yes you’re slow enough with the blood that I can get naked.

Ooh, you like what you see, don’t you big boy? Okay, I can pose for like half a second. Hell, maybe it will even help make this work. How about if I touch myself? Does that....oooh hell yes. My lips are all slick and you’ve been looking at me for like two seconds. I’d slip a finger inside, but, well...then we’d never get this done.

Wow but masturbation with someone watching is different. Why didn’t I ever try to feed off _actual_ voyeurs?

I turn back around just in time to see her breasts pop free of the bra, a mental image I’ll carry with me like a warm summer day for the rest of my life. She’s got the most amazing round breasts, and they bounce as she undresses like somehow gravity hasn’t noticed that they’re bare now. Big purply-black nipples and areolas stand out, hardening visibly as I drink her in and she drinks in my ogling - it feels thin, just a whisper compared to the full voice of making out, but apparently physical contact isn’t _absolutely_ necessary for her to feed. Below the waist, her pussy and mound stand out, somehow soft and prominent, displayed - her thighs, though curvacious enough to rub when she walks, curve back to leave her pussy exposed even when she crosses her legs.

Oh yes, definitely touch yourself for me. Her pussy colors a bit as she slides a gloved hand over her outer lips, turning just a bit less pale. The overall effect is almost like an old photograph, but instead of sepia the base color is the electric purple of her eyes that narrow in pleasure and stay nailed to mine.

I can see it in your eyes. Come get me.

I’m snapped from my reverie by a glow at my feet: the marks in the dirt and spatters of blood are shining with a faint light that follows the same purple color scheme everything else about her does. Awww, my firstest ever magic spell.

Okay. How bad of a person am I? Can I carry off this part? She’s so much smaller than me and I feel bad pushing her around but I’m taking her word that’s it’s important for the spell or ritual or whatever so I’m not going to pull punches.

She’s moved a few feet away, holding the sword with white knuckles and looking intently at her feet. I stride up, move around behind her, and grab her hair at the base of her neck and sort of throw her at the circle, following and landing a smack on her ass that pushes her over the boundary.

She stumbles forward, then lands inside the circle precisely but clumsily almost like she hit a wall on the far side.

What is this? Is this me or her? I hadn’t meant to be quite so violent but I know I’m not doing anything but being intimidating. It’s electrifying like a first kiss and it’s as if each move opens the floodgate on this dark rushing river inside me just a little more but there’s no sense of losing control or even the drunk feeling of being too rattled to have good judgment. I’m still me, just not the me I know.

Oh baby wheeOOF. Wait, did I just bounce off the circle? Is this _working_? Hup! Didn’t realize you had my horn, mmm, okay, we can kiss...oh shit, it’s working better than I meant. I can’t squeeze a drop from you but I’m still cranking you up and I can’t stop myself. Can’t do much of anything but kiss right at the moment...unh...gotta stop you before you burn yourself...

Yeah, not happening. I should have warned you about this part, spikes...

Oh god, all that life building up in you. Smells so good. Please Sir please let me beg you for some please...

The fire builds in me again. I have her by the horn from behind, head bent back to kiss me, wings folded between her shoulder blades and my arms, other hand wrapped around her breast and feeling her up roughly and there’s no doubt that she’s into this. She kisses back with a crazy desperation and moans into my mouth when I let her breast go and grab her by the soft, slick, wet, warm pussy, probing for her clit, her tail tightening where it’s encircled my thigh as I explore.

Power, fury, strength. Why isn’t she drinking? It feels good when she drinks, but this feels good too. If I tell her to drink now, will she do the stars thing like before?

“Drink.” I mouth it around the kiss, then tighten my grip between her legs just a little roughly and force my tongue into her, trying to visualize taking some of the energy I’m full of and pushing it into her mouth.

She arches against me, screaming a moan into my mouth at the top of her inhuman voice, harmonics working their way into my bones and making every (every) part of me buzz, and bursts into light.

Oooooooohhhh...sparkles...cumming...

Stars, galaxies, grey night sky. I don’t care if I am going to hell for this, if she’s from hell I don’t want heaven.

One of her hands kind of grips feebly on my arm where it holds her, while the other dangles the sword limply at our side.

Sword. Right. This is more than just a sex scene.

I kiss her a minute more as the light fades and I stabilize at merely awesome. Eventually she seems to subside a little, so I break the kiss and spin her to face me, pushing her to her knees.

Unh. I think I’ve just _been_ an orgasm. I’ve heard that you can fuck someone with energy by going over unity without drinking and then letting them have it, but that was insane. I didn’t know a human could force-feed you like that. My sparkles sting like anything but damn if it isn’t worth it. Ooogh, I feel drunk...

Mm...being pushed down to knees. Okay, down. I was supposed to do something here, but it doesn’t seem to matter anymore...mmm, the circle is getting tighter, you must be getting more into this...

Was it something about sucking you off? Because that would work well right now.

Once she’s down there, she just kind of sways a little bit, staring either at or through my cock where it’s tenting, rock hard, in my shorts in an orgasmic-looking daze. I hope I haven’t hosed this by making her forget the next part.

Something tells me I haven’t, though. If anything, this feels more right than the original plan.

Feels like the right context for a blowjob from a succubus, in any case. I tug the soft gym shorts aside, popping my dick free, and it’s immediately clear that yes, that’s what she’s looking for. Definitely not looking through me now. I reach for her head to stroke her hair and get a handful of horn instead, so I use it to gently lift her face to look at me, and she fixes hazy, half-mast eyes on mine and licks her lips.

...feels...like ocean waves...please do it...

Dark admission time: back there in the bed before everything ever exploded? That was my first kiss. I guess being the target of creatures like this is some kind of cosmic game balance for being a poor innocent virgin at the age of nineteen or something, because that to this must be some kind of record.

There’s a trembling, expectant feeling, like this is some kind of departure point, like we’re both waiting for me to either walk away or hit play on the song that ends the world, and then I’ve brought her lips to my tip and she’s licking hungrily with a slick, warm tongue. My hand is just resting on her horn, not gripping, but she seems to want to just follow my guidance, so I bit by bit bring her down my shaft, and she closes her lips around me as I pass them. Despite being obviously stoned from glowing before she’s just as good with her tongue now as when we make out.

How far can she go? I push further gingerly and she just takes it. With an inch or two left to go, I can feel myself hitting the soft soft back of her throat, but she just sort of shifts position a little and then it’s like the inside of her mouth closes wetly and warmly around me and she uses her free hand on my ass to pull herself the rest of the way. I study her face as best I can, but she looks even more blissful than when she was licking.

...really am made for this...

...so good...

A distant part of me makes a note to feel silly later for expecting a succubus to have a gag reflex.

I expect I’ll want to pull back and make her fuck me with her mouth, but there’s no need: her tongue definitely isn’t pinned in place despite how full her mouth seems, and her throat is trying to swallow me, so I just let her stay there and suck on me, moaning softly and blissfully, her stars glittering, now reflective instead of emissive, in the strange unlight of limbo.

I’d have thought that having life-force or whatever it is drawn out of me would hurt, or at least feel more weird than good, but it’s amazing, enlivening the part of me she’s pulling it out through as if it’s granting just a little extra aliveness as it goes. There’s a rhythm, pulling and letting it build, in it that’s just a little different then what she’s doing with her tongue and so the two phase against each other like harmonizing notes, alternately emphasizing one and then the other. It’s...it’s...the cum feels like fire as it throbs up my cock in one huge burst. She can feel it coming because she lets out a high little ‘mmf!’ as it starts and then grabs hold of my ass and presses her face into me and sucks physically and metaphysically for all she’s worth, overcharging everything I feel.

...cum yus cum...finally...oof...thinking...nf...hard and fun...like struggling...while...held down and fucked...ngh...

I’ve never come this long before. I don’t know if it’s that she’s feeding at the same time, or some kind of succubus superpower to keep me going, or if she’s just good at sucking, but at the point where I should finish it feels like some second wave takes me and I keep coming for what feels like long, amazing minutes, and we’re both trembling when I’m done. Slowly, carefully, I withdraw from her, savoring the warmth of her mouth on me. There’s a drop of come clinging to my tip as I withdraw that she darts forward and licks off, savoring it like some expensive desert.

How to make a guy feel special in one step.

...I feel different...more...better...

There’s a heartbeat where she just looks up at me, sated, shadow of a smile tugging at the corner of her otherwise soft mouth, eyes completely unguarded while my post-orgasmic mind reboots.

We were...right. Hand under her chin this time, I lift her face to look at mine. “I brought you here...”

It happens in an instant and I have to act in an instant, so please understand that basically no conscious thought happens here. There’s this strange grinding sensation, and sense of titanic energy teetering on some brink like I’m trying to steer a freight train. The words are rails and there’s a place this ritual is taking us and I can force the wheel and say what I had been going to say, “because I wanted you.", but I honestly believe that if I do all this momentum will be spent metaphorically smearing us both along a hillside, so I follow the rails, for better or worse.

“...to be my Lyra. I bind you to me.”

...ooh pretty...

There’s a feeling of weight to the words, like they’re heavy with overloaded meaning, as if I’ve tried to avoid saying something and instead simply said it with absolute succinctness.

I hold out an empty hand toward her, and she presents the sword, bowing her head.

...yes, sword, sword good...

If I don’t feel like enough of a badass to draw this sword well now, I never will. I take a solid hold of the scabbard and handle in opposite hands, and look at it appraisingly, trying to actually check it out. It’s a nice piece of work, everything solid and precise. It’ll definitely do. And Lyra? I already know what I think of her.

“With this sword, I’ll make sure nothing takes you from me.”

I draw the blade with a flourish, and I should be expecting it but the crackle of purple-edged black fire that arcs between scabbard and sword and then settles glowering around the blade still sends a chill down my spine. I bring the burning blade down between us, inspecting it. I’d expected curves from a sword given to me by a succubus, but the blade has one straight edge that ends in an angled point that reflects the shape of the scabbard. Actually, the whole blade is made of straight lines and angles and seems to be carved from some shiny black ceramic like obsidian. The back edge is wickedly serrated like an oversize bowie knife, and inlaid into the blade in silver are intertwining feminine shapes I shall assuredly be inspecting in excruciating detail later, the only curves to be found anywhere on the blade.

If there is later. We need a magic sword for a reason.

“Cleavage.”

Yes, I was supposed to say that first, but the same railroading energy as before has driven me to wait for this point.

...hot...hothothot...yay, worked...

...tired now...

What else am I going to call a sword given to me by a succubus that’s shaped like the devil’s own meat cleaver?

Sword. It’s not a sword, it’s a knife, massive and stone. Stone Knife. I’ve read my Narnia, the significance isn’t lost on me.

She’s shying from the blade like it just came out of the forge but the fire doesn’t confer any heat to me. I can practically, no, I _can_ stick my finger right in it and the stone is cold. What...duh. Me human, her demon. Monster busting sword.

I sheathe it, the fire splashing around the scabbard like a liquid being scraped off. There’s a strap or belt, ornate with an excess of buckles, I throw over one shoulder, not trusting my gym shorts and narrow hips to keep a whole sword from falling down.

When the purple light dies it’s like dropping a candle in the ocean, cold and dark and I swear there are perfekti whispering just at the limit of hearing. We need to get out of here.

“Alright, now what?”

She just looks at me with doe eyes and blinks once, languidly.

“What’s wrong?”

A minute shake of the head. She just looks peaceful, not hurt or upset. She’s there, but it’s like nothing can stir her. Did the spell go wrong somehow? Did I hurt her with the sword so close?

“Lyra.” She fixes her eyes on me, sort of a little smile, expectant. She recognizes the name at least. Maybe getting us moving will bring her back a little. Even if it’s a bad idea to drag her around staying here longer is probably worse. I grab her hand and start pulling us back toward the fence but as she takes the first step she winces and falls back with a shudder, a little furrow of her brow trying and failing to replace the placidity. She’s looking down, confused by something.

The circle! Does it keep her in place? It’s still glowing, the drops of our mingled fluids shining like dim stars. This may end up really bad, but I don’t know what else to do, so I rub out a part of the double-border, and it’s like she’s a marionette I’ve cut the strings on, or worse, collapsing at me as if struck, but she manages to look up and focus bleary eyes on me.

GAH! Knocked out of subspace like a kick in the tits. Coming down from a ritual like that the right way would’ve been bad enough, I’m gonna feel this tomorrow.

“We’re gonna have to teach you how to do a proper dismissal.”

If we make it to tomorrow.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

She nods, weakly, and struggles her feet back under herself.

“Yeah. Just kind of an abrupt landing.”

She sniffs the air, and looks scared. 

“Perfekti.”

“Shite. Let’s get going. What happened to your outfit?”

She’s already running, tugging at the hand I still hold. 

“Succubus! Modesty level zero! Let’s go!”


	5. The Sword of Good

At least if I have to run for my life I can feel the air on my pussy. Why I didn’t I spend more time running around Sade Hall naked? Was I really that emo? I never even went skinny dipping. 

Yeah, I was that emo. I guess I’d have to be to have ended up in this situation...rgh! No. I know what I’m doing and I know what I want and I’m _not_ clinging to the apron strings just because I want to be with the person whose fantasies I’m as good as made out of!

What is that? Oh dust. Shut shut shut up!

Lyra drops my hand and covers her ears, eyes screwed shut but not slowing down, and then I hear the whispering, clear and voiceless and coming from everywhere, the same demented rhythm as before chewing away at my brain but...larger.

A lot larger.

_Oh._ The thing I killed before was a baby.

I ignore the words as hard as I can and draw the sword, running after Lyra full-tilt.

It’s suicide, we’re just pelting down an empty street without a destination or even knowing if we’re running toward or away from the threat. This loud, it must be right on top of us. Where is it?

“LYRA!” I belt it out as loud as I can to get through her stopped-up ears. “WHERE?” I’m crossing my fingers that being more sensitive to these things gives her a better sense of where they are.

She doesn’t slow down or turn around, but her tail raises and points behind us and to the right, toward a lot ringed with a fifty foot stockade made of white picket fence. As if on cue, the fence shudders, cracked planks hurling splinters into the street, so I pour on the speed, heedless of the asphalt tearing at my bare feet, and collide with Lyra who’s pivoted to face me.

There’s an awful moment where I think I’ve impaled her with the sword and can feel the ichor running over my hand and then I realize I’m just still sticky with the blood from the ritual, and that feeling her up before I’ve left smeared blood-and-ichor handprints on her breast and bare pussy and there’s a vertiginous moment of finding this terrible and erotic and then her tail is stabbing frantically in the direction we were running. More?

I slam to a foot-grinding halt and take us away from the fence and back the way we came, stumbling forwards as the perfekti smashes through, showering us with splinters.

I can’t help looking back to get my first real look at one of these things, and regret it instantly, head swimming.

They’re made of migraine aura. They’re...I know this girl who works for a neuropsychology practice, typing up their reports. They mostly handle cases from one of the big aerospace firms in town, and for whatever reason that means she types up a lot of engineers who’ve lost their shit by just working and working and never sleeping or even so much as playing a video game. 

If you could take a picture of the inside of their heads and then make it physical and three-dimensional, this is what it’d look like. You can’t actually _see_ it as such, and trying hurts. It’s a mass of glowing white symbols, all different sizes, orbiting and rushing through each other making constantly-shifting almost-structures always almost something and never actually anything. It’s twisting toward us like a snake, it’s pouncing like a tiger, it’s bearing down like a tank, it’s one or the other and it’s all three at once. Trying to understand the thing is like getting punched in the visual cortex. It’s the size of a car, maybe bigger, and all the symbols are featureless emissive shapes, but it illuminates nothing.

...and it’s gaining like we’re not even moving.

A tendril of symbols pulls itself free of the mass and whips at us, trying to curl around and snare us like an octopus would. I swing the sword desperately, eyes fixed on my target, trying to squint and just see the general shape without understanding what I’m looking at as I sometimes do when I’ve been hacking forever and the raster burn is getting to be just too much.

Purple-black fire and sparks trail the sword like a torch swung through the air, buzzing like a tesla coil, and I connect! It’s no kind of solid hit and the sword bucks counterintuitively in my hand like I’ve swung it through the mother of all magnetic fields instead of hitting something solid, but there’s a crackling discharge and symbols scatter from the tendril - which recoils as if it’s touched a live wire - fizzing out of existence.

Okay that was fucking _metal_. Burn, slutshamer! You didn’t connect hardly at all and the whole tendril is on fire and oh yes go right ahead and try to retract it, see how that works out for you! Yeah, not so awesome, is it?

It’s not coming at us as fast all of a sudden. Can perfekti trip?

You’re just kind of standing there looking dumbfounded so I grab your not-sword hand and take us running off. Not that I can blame you really, watching it thrash around trying to get at the fire it just pulled back inside itself without setting more parts on fire is pretty awesome.

Sade’s Toenails, just being near these things feels like some evil bizarro world version of a violet wand, like it’s crawling all over me and I can feel—HUP!

Lyra body-slams me sideways and a huge tendril shatters the pavement where we’d just been running and we skid to a halt, knees and elbows and flanks skinned wickedly by the opinion of a thousand bored suburban moms that the rough concrete sidewalk their kids play on is actually a bed of tiny razor-pointed shards of quartz. The tendril sort of lurches, like the thing is having a hard time lifting it back up, jerking back toward the main mass like some hellish obstinate garden hose. Something clicks in my mind: the back of the sword is serrated, evil-looking with hooked teeth, and the symbols that compose the monster have lots of closed loops and seem to have some kind of physical existence.

I turn the sword teeth-side first, and swing at the tendril with a pulling arc that draws opposite the direction it’s trying to retract the tendril. There’s another crackle and another buck and then a terrible weight on the sword for a moment and it’s worked! A smattering of symbols pulls free, fading, but I’ve dragged the tendril a solid couple of feet away from the main mass, which is kind of lurching towards us like it’s limping.

Quickly, I flip the sword back and start hacking at the tendril like I’m chopping wood, forehand and backhand, keeping at it even as the dark fire spreads along the tendril and then all of a sudden there’s this snapping crack and the end of the tentacle detonates while the still-attached portion disintegrates, unraveling with a terrible violence like it was made of springs straining against each other, the impact smacking the main mass backward as everything comes apart, dripping with purple fire.

YEAH! Everything about that crazy suicide-circle of a ritual was worth it! When we get back I’m going to fucking LIVE in the library until I figure out how to let a succubus use consecrated stuff! I bet I can even read and fuck at the same time.

If we get back. “Run! It’s hurt and they’re cannibals! It’ll keep the other ones busy!”

You’re slow getting up so I grab your arm - mm, arm, wait till you see this arm when I’m through with you - and drag you up and set us running.

I feel amazing. Maybe it’s just a little Valkyr bloodlust or something, but the headache from getting punted out of the circle before is even gone and I feel like I could pull myself off a pentagram drawn by Sade vimself. I’m like, more solid or something. Faster, for sure, because you’re kind of lagging...oh. You poor thing, your feet are bleeding. Sorry. I wish I could stop and put some nectar on them for you.

Feet on fire. Knees on fire. Side one fire. Heart on fire. But we hurt it. Lyra’s not even noticing that she’s bleeding. Is she in shock? Do succubi even have hormones and stuff? How does that work?

They _must_ have hormones.

Anyway no stopping. “Now what do we do?”

“Now we have to go for a swim. Which way is the shore?”

What? What did I say?

It’s no more insane than anything else that’s been going on, but it feels like enough of a nonsequiter that it brings me up short.

“We need to go swimming. In a lake or something. Why do we need to go swimming?”

“No lake. It has to be the ocean. And it has to be deep. It’s how you get a human out of limbo.”

As it sinks in that we’ve outrun the perfekti for now, I start to crash, the pain of my injuries fading in as adrenaline fades out. Nothing is too bad - skinned hands and knees and a bunch of bruises - except my feet, which are shredded from running barefoot on pavement. It’s hard to see in the pale light but I think I’m leaving bloody footprints.

Soles shredded. Hah, hah. I need to sit down.

You don’t look so good. Yeah, sit on the curb before you fall over.

Okay, just looking at you is making me need a hug. There’d better be room for me on that curb of yours. Can I sit on this without shredding my pussy?

Sort of. Just...hold still, self. No bouncing. It’s funny, the little stuff you don’t think about like how everything you could theoretically sit on around Sade Hall is polished or cushioned.

Don’t flinch away! I just want to hold onto you! Oh. That’s the side you fell on. I can feel it all sticky with blood even through my glove, you poor thing.

“Sorry.”

You nod, but you just kind of look straight ahead. You may as well be at the other end of the True Sea - I’m leaned up against your side but even through all that skin contact I’m getting barely anything from you. 

I don’t get it. The humans back home seem so tough. I thought you’d be the same way. Maybe you’re just short of nectar - you look half starved, pretty as you are...oh. Duh. Of course you’re short of nectar, in your entire life you’ve had a grand total of two makeout sessions and whatever you managed to absorb through your cock during that tasty tasty blowjob you took before! You didn’t even think to lick your hand after fingering me. How are you even conscious?

Fuck’s sake. Did you tell him any of this, self? No, of course not. So how’s he going to know?

Come on, kiss me. You need it. If I kiss you on the cheek like _this_ , will you turn to me? What if I kiss the corner of your lips?

Man, nothing. Ouch. What’s wrong with you?

What is the speed of sound through a belief system? I’ve been hit with the spiritual equivalent of a relativistic planet killer, but I’m like the people in that one Larry Niven story who know the world is ending because the sun has gone nova and they’re watching the moon burn but the shockwave hasn’t arrived from the other side of the planet and won’t for hours. I should feel scared, or guilty, or something, but there’s nothing.

Am I being seduced? Damned? As may be apparent, if I’m undergoing some kind of face-heel turn here it’s been in the works for a while before this demon showed up in my room. This is just sort of the capstone.

It’s just...the only reference points I have are anti-reference points. You’re not supposed to have anything to do with things like Lyra on pain of your soul, but she tells me she loves me and I really believe it, impossible though that must be. Prayers are supposed to drive out demons, but my devout brother’s or ordained father’s off-the-cuff exorcism didn’t budge a single hair on her head, and then - if I’m grokking what happened right before we jumped out the window - I watched a much worse monster than the one that’s wrapped herself sweetly around me ignore us in favor of eating some prayer hot off the Bible verses, and then hacked apart another example of the same thing with a sword rejected by Sauron himself for looking too over-the-top evil.

I got my first blowjob as part of some dark ritual that I _hope_ was just to make the sword all flaming and badass but how would I know seeing as I didn’t even ask?

And now she sees me freaking out and she’s hugging me and trying to kiss it better and in any other circumstance I’d die from the sweetness of this but right now I can’t even turn my head.

I’m...all of this is wrong, but none of it feels wrong. It’s funny, I find out demons are real and I realize there are times in my life I’ve felt their presence and it’s nothing like what I feel from Lyra.

I’m supposed to have my moment of repentance or something here, take a second and consider what I’m doing and realize the error of my ways, but nothing doing. If this were Narnia instead of limbo I’d now hear a lion roaring in the distance or see Aslan’s face in a pothole or whatever and snap out of it, but nope. I wonder what God would be saying to me at the moment if I were a Pentecostal?

The fact is, _none_ of my tools work right on her. I keep thinking of that part in the Screwtape Letters where Screwtape gets chewed out for letting his victim experience a real pleasure instead of cheap empty ones, but the only thing she’s offering me is real pleasure, sex that’s not just good but meaningful, and loving.

There’s a conclusion I’ve been avoiding because the facts and the labels are colliding so hard.

“Lyra, what are you? I know you’re a succubus, but what’s a succubus?”

Huh? “I dunno, we’re ourselves. What do you mean? Like, are we demons or whatever?”

What’s a demon? A fallen angel. But Lyra’s not evil. Maybe it’s what I want to think but she just doesn’t _feel_ like it. Nothing could be so...perfectly imperfect as she is at seeming good. 

What do you call a demon that’s not evil?

“I dunno. Nevermind.” Somehow I can’t bring myself to follow the line of reasoning or questioning. I guess I truly don’t want to know.

And that’s it, in the end. I’m sitting here paralyzed because I’m afraid that if I ask the obvious questions this will all go away and I’ll go back to my terrible and boring normal life.

I spend a long time staring at the road in front of me, mental gears jammed.

Okay I’ve done some mighty presumptuous things in the last half-watch and this will be a new level in topping from the bottom but if something doesn’t snap you out of this we’re going to get eaten by perfekti for reals this time.

If you punish me later for being impertinent or whatever, please come up with something interesting?

I’m startled from my reverie by a wet warmth on my fingers: Lyra has moved around in front of me and is licking the blood-and-ichor from my fingers.

Licking up your own ichor: sincerest form of masturbation. 

Pfeh, blood. How can something make you feel sick and strong at the same time?

It’s the hand I landed on falling when we dodged the perfekti tentacle before, and it’s skinned wickedly - I realize the stickiness is fresh blood as much as leftover from the spell before.

She’s on her knees, butt resting against her heels, knees apart so I can see everything, eyes closed and head lowered as she licks my hand tenderly. 

Grey skin, purple eyes rimmed in black that’s not makeup, black tears still streaking her face, silky wings occasionally refolding themselves, tail curled carefully around her hip, maddening lovely scent of flowers and candy and sex and not a bit of human. Smeared blood-and-ichor handprints still mark her breast and mound and pussy, glistening just slightly in the non-light of limbo.

Why isn’t it disturbing? Why is it just beautiful?

A warm, wet, succubus-tongued heartbeat passes.

Why does my hand feel so much better?

It’s horrifying and soothing, beautiful and terrible.

‘...as the dawn’ my brain involuntarily completes the line, but it’s true. To me she’s as pretty as the rising sun. Am I a monster for liking the servile way she licks me? For finding something erotic in her blood-smeared breasts and cunt?

For apparently thinking the word ‘cunt’ was the right choice just there?

My hand’s feeling a _lot_ better, and I find I’m letting out a ragged sigh.

Thank Sade. I think that sigh is the first human thing you’ve done in the past five ges. 

Good, you’re looking a little better. Have you figured it out yet? Let’s give you a little something for good measure...I’d call it flattery but that blowjob before was kind of a tight fit really.

Yes fine I’m pretty hungry too, but this will take care of us both.

Her eyes open when I sigh, and she looks up at me naughtily, then takes my ring and middle fingers into her mouth, licking them suggestively.

“Hungry again already, I see.”

“Always.” Okay so I hadn’t intended to get quite so into this when we’ve got perfekti on the way, but I’ll admit this is turning out pretty fun and I can see you’re getting into it.

It’s a good thing I’m Hench instead of Lilith or I’d have grabbed the boner this is giving you already and then we’d never get going again.

That should do it. _Now_ will you fucking wake up and kiss me?

Her voice is husky with lust when she answers, and I’m surprised to find myself responding to the seduction at all. Has it really been long enough? I _just_ came, but, well...

“Take a look at your hand.”

She lets it go, pushing it toward me, and I inspect it, dumbstruck. The scrape is...not gone, but much smaller than it was, as if it’s been healing for days instead of minutes.

“How?”

“Nectar. Heals you. Same stuff in my pussy but stronger. Other hand?”

Yeah, I get a little monosyllabic when I’m turned on, what of it?

“Amazed you didn’t notice your tongue was all better from it.”

Oh. The lack of artery-deep puncture wounds in my mouth probably should have tipped me off, yes.

I go to put the sword away, and then realize that I’ve at some point already sheathed it - a rather fiddly operation with the sheath’s tight fit and position behind my shoulder - and completely not realized I was doing it.

“I’m not doing so good.”

After a second I remember to give her the other hand, which she licks just as tenderly. On this one the knuckles are a bloody mess from hitting the ground with the sword clutched in my fist.

Jeez, your hand is barely in one piece. Is that what human bone looks like? Oh fuck, creepy, it really is all white like your teeth...I didn’t think I knocked you down this hard before. Poor daddy, I’m so sorry... “You’re a wreck, sweetie. You need to drink me some. Please, kiss me and take a drink? You’ll feel a lot better, I promise. Sorry I’m not lactating yet.”

Yeah, going down on me would give you more and stronger nectar but I’m a little scared to do that here the way us doing anything more than kissing has gone so far. Mind you, that’s going to be great when we get home.

You look so far away even with your hands fixed up. Please, come on...thank Sade.

I’ve got a vague impression that there was a sentence there that should have been weird or something (even relative to the new baseline), but my brain’s just not processing it.

Mutely, working my hand distantly as if it’s a telerobot on the far side of Pluto, I take her hand and bring her to me. She brings her knees together and rises onto them, kneeling up between my knees as I sit on the curb, and kisses me deeply, mouth inviting and wetter than before.

Damn but your tongue is big...mmf! I didn’t think you could reach that far. Well, good. Come on mouth, make us lotsa nectar...

I never knew anything could taste as good as a succubus kiss. Flowers, candy, sex, her smell in liquid form. It’s...not saliva, saliva doesn’t taste like anything and there isn’t this much of it and it doesn’t have a slick edge like this stuff does. Just kissing is soothing, but when I get enough of her on my tongue to draw it back and swallow it’s like...I don’t know. There’s no explaining it. I just feel _better_.

There’s maddeningly little at a time but I’d wait an eternity for this stuff and I drink hungrily for what seems like forever, feeding more than kissing.

Eventually, her arms and wings both are around me (impossibly, their membrane seems to breathe like cotton), and I’m embracing her and we’re making out instead of just kissing, her drinking me as much as I’m drinking her. Her nipples press into my chest, hot and hard at the end of soft breasts, and she gives a little ‘mmf!’ when one catches on the sword’s strap as we move together.

By the time I have to come up for air, I’m feeling a lot clearer.

“You taste amazing.”

She just smiles at me happily for a moment.

“So do youOOOH!” How did I not notice you reaching for my cunt? Well, good, it’ll fix your hand up, and...okay yeah that feels pretty good...come on, I have inner lips too, you can find them...omigod okay you can go for my clit instead, that’s fine...boo. Don’t go away.

Hey, no jagged nails, did I even fix those? I guess you must have read about that _someplace_ , it’s kinda fundamental.

Fingers good and wet in her slickness, I bring glistening fingers to my lips and lick them clean and oh god. It’s like the kiss ten times over, concentrated and sweet and intoxicating, stretching and clinging in the way nothing out of a bottle can ever imitate. I swear I can feel the wave of lust and strength go through me as I swallow, waking me up like nuclear-grade coffee but soothing and comfortable like warm milk.

Feh. Metaphors are an insult to the way she tastes and makes me feel.

More.

Use the other hand, silly, it’ll fix that one up too...oooooor okay use it to grab me by the upper arm and hold me still while you finger me, that’s hot, if you keep this up I’m going to cum right here. I’m surprised you don’t try to go inside but then as wet as you’re getting me I guess you don’t really need to and yeah I’ve got inner lips for you to explore too juuuuuuust like that uhuh...boo.

After the second handful my heart is pounding and my cock is throbbing and I want to just throw her on her back and drink until I burst, but I’m also now lucid enough to realize that we’re still in danger and possibly kind of screwed.

I stand and pull Lyra up with me, her arms still hooked around my neck.

“Thank you. That was. I. You’re amazing. Are you okay? I hope I didn’t take too much.”

“Take too much? Honey, if you’d fed me much more I’d be glowing like during the ritual. You’re pretty amazing yourself.”

She has of course been feeding the whole time I’ve been with it enough to do more than mechanically drink, and she does look distinctly less tired than when we started, but for obvious reasons this isn’t parsing.

Shouldn’t be parsing, anyway.

No.

“No fucking way.”

She’s definitely a demon.

She might be an angel.

There’s no way she’s God.

“What?”

“Lyra, did we just violate conservation of energy?”

“I’m a Sade, honey, we violate lots of things.” Look, you try having that line in front of you and not saying it. I know it’s not actually an answer.

“I’m serious.”

“You hadn’t noticed yet? How did you think I could feed without making you weak?” OMGs it’s so much fun watching this dawn on you. Your face is all like, ‘is that Cthulhu rising, or the sun?’.

I’m still rushing with the energy we’ve apparently just glitched into existence, or I might not otherwise remember the thought from before and assemble the puzzle: “You turn lust into energy. Right? That’s what you run on.”

She nods, an odd little grin on her face.

“Yup! Four letters, starts with L, nothing else like it. The way emotions make you wanna do stuff, give you energy, that’s not just a metaphor, I live off that.”

“But...lust is just an emotion. You can’t _use up_ an emotion, and even if you could, so what, as long as you’re turning me on I’ll keep feeling it. That’s why you say trees don’t make the sun go out, I’m putting out that energy whether you’re there to soak it up or not. Right? We could go forever just off each other. Could we? Is nectar as good as food? Would I starve?”

I was ravenous after the ritual because it’s like 4am. I’m not really hungry now.

Hehe! You look like it’s Christmas morning and I’m under the tree (I’ll admit, when you started down that road last year I thought I was in for something that’d make a Venus choke on the sweetness but it turned out kind of oddly kinky with all the ribbons and the wrapping paper thing and stuff...+1 would wank again).

I’m so proud, most of the humans I know back home took years to notice this.

“Nope, you’d do great. Especially once I’ve got some milk for you.”

“Buh. But. That’s impossible. That breaks literally everything. We really didn’t get energy from somewhere else?”

Everything I know tells me we must have pulled the strength from somewhere else, but that same sinking sense of reality that tells me I’m not just dreaming this all screams otherwise.

If you haven’t studied physics, it’s hard to explain the gravity of what we’ve just done. The laws of thermodynamics aren’t really laws, even in the “law of physics” sense. They’re more like the bolts that hold reality together, or maybe they’re the idea of bolts at all. They’re written and rewritten into all the other laws of physics. They show up everywhere and everything depends on them: there’s an old sci-fi fan’s joke wherein a wizard, wishing to protect his tower, casts a spell that disables gunpowder, and instantly drops dead, since the same chemical reactions that make gunpowder explode power the human metabolism. This is that, times ten thousand: instead of something so particular as burning fuel with oxygen, we’ve pulled the rug out from under things as basic as gravity and _time_. 

It’s one thing to lose the whole basis of your belief system. This is losing the basis of belief systems in general. The basis of anything.

If you can do this, you’re God. Better than God, because God has to _make sense_. Surely there must be something else at play here?

“If it was impossible you’d be crying over my crumbled dust in your front yard right now. And no, far as anyone can figure out it’s just like you said. Over unity conversion thing, something about going from one kind of energy to the other.”

Finding out that physics in general is at best a set of guidelines should be terrifying, but instead it just fills me with this deranged elation like I’m playing an MMO with a real-money economy and I’ve just found the mother of all gold-duping glitches.

Which is, I suppose, a much better metaphor than it has any right to be.

“You’re not a demon and you’re not taking me to hell. You’re God and you’re taking me to heaven.”

“No, honey, I’m not God. I’m just an extra-pervy Sade and all I’m doing is taking you home.”

We’re still embracing, so I sort of set her on her feet, squeezing her hands affectionately before I let them go.

“But you do want me to come away and live with you.”

It’s all I can do to put it as a statement, to voice it at all. I don’t want the answer, in case, to my surprise, the answer is no.

“I...yeah...I can’t really live on Earth or I’d...maybe we could...Pandemonium’s really nice, it’s not Hell, that’s just a stereotype because...”

Spikes. Spike me like an angel, all this time I’ve just _assumed_. I mean, who _wouldn’t_ want to come live in Pandemonium? But what if...I didn’t even ask...spikes...

Oh hug me, touch me, please please fuck me before you turn me away...

“And you want us to be...together.”

“...yeah...”

“Is there some kind of catch? Do I have to join the armies of Hell or something like that?”

Hehe. “No. Don’t have to join anything or anything. We don’t need anything but each other.”

I should...

“...but you have to take care of me. Keep me fed and pay attention to me and stuff. Deal?”

I want so much more, but I think...I think I could live with that. I think I’d at least not die.

I wish you knew what a Hollow Heart was, it’d make this so much easier.

Stuck with a hungry succubus, oh what a burden.

“Hell yes.”

“It’s just, you should know, I can be kind of intense, I...”

“Good.”

Relief from her, like a physical force. That need again, vulnerability laid over all the bravery and strength in the face of death, making me wish to wrap her in my arms.

“Let’s get the fuck home. We’ll walk all the way to the shore if we have to. It’ll give us time to get to know each other. Hell, maybe you can even tell me what it’s gonna be like.”

Yeah, there’s surely going to be more monsters, but the way I feel right now I think I could blow them up just by glaring at them.

Wait, what? That easily? Woo! Not questioning!

“Yes _Sir_. How far is it?”

“Fifty miles, give or take. Is this place going to distort that?” I’m remembering my parents’ titanic front lawn.

“Probably, yeah. Do people think it’s far? I’m guessing that’s pretty far.” Maybe it’s not that bad? If cars are as fast as the ones in that fantasy of yours that starts with the car chase we might get on the road that goes there and see the waves right in front of us.

“Well, we’re in Texas. Most people in the world have to have it explained to them that this state even has any coastline. To most people I know here it’s practically another planet.” Not that I’ve made friends with much of anyone local.

“That’s spiking annoying.”

“Quite. Any ideas other than walking?” Where are we, anyway? Which way is the highway?

“If we weren’t in a creepyass fake city that barely exists I could take us on shortcuts through the forgotten places. Is there anything old around?” It’s probably just as well, I don’t really want you seeing how bad I still am at sticking the landing from those.

“Honestly I think that’s going to be harder to find than the shore.”

There not being anything better to do, we’ve started walking, hand in hand, Cleavage drawn and buzzing quietly as my arm swings. I’m leading us in what I hope is the direction of the highway leading to Galveston and the sea shore. Mercifully, we seem to have lost the perfekti for the time being.

“You know, when I bought that gaming rig instead of a car three years ago, I had an idea I might suddenly get a life at some point and regret the decision, but this really isn’t what I had in mind.”

“Hey now, that machine and Elder Scrolls modding gave us some of our best moments together. Alicia The Painslut, oh baby. ‘More, Master!’”

Wandering around Fucking Fake, USA would be a lot more comforting if I was holding onto your free arm with both hands like _so_. Ooh, you like that, huh? I love the way you smile when I do this stuff.

You have nice, big, solid arms. Maybe I’m flattering myself here but I think this one already feels stronger.

“You keep saying stuff like that. Have you been using a spy-cam spell on my masturbation sessions for the past few years, or what?”

I should mind. I should violently mind, but I just kind of don’t. I guess those were by definition times I never actually wanted to be alone anyway. Somehow finding I wasn’t is more refreshing than horrifying. “And why do I kind of like that idea?”

“I told you you knew me better than you thought. I’ve been with you for years.”

“What, like, possessing me?”

She’s gripping my arm and rubbing up against me, not really trying to stop from stumbling along trying to match my steps without room to really do so, her flank warm and soft against mine and her weight as she dangles somehow balancing and relaxing me. It feels great, but raises a certain obvious question. “Aren’t you a little, like, corporeal for that?”

Facing me, she throws arms around my neck to dangle her body against mine and starts to respond, and then stiffens, listening.

“Sh!” Fucking hell, I can’t believe I’m actually glad to hear that sound. Where is it?

There, under the car. “Hey little guy! It’s all right, come on out. It’s alright, we probably won’t bite.”

She’s on one knee in front of a parked car, head bent to the pavement to look underneath.

From where she’s looking, there’s a quiet, snarling voice, jibbering incoherently in the cookie-monster rasp of a death-metal singer.

“What, what’s going on? What the fuck is that?”

“Who’s mommy’s widdle metaphysical pain in the ass? Is it you? I think it’s youuuu. Come on out, widdle pain in the ass!”

She extends a hand toward the car, then withdraws it quickly, followed by...gah. It’s just a mouth full of pointed teeth, lips curled in a rictus of fury, attached to a lump of bloody gore maybe the radius of a DVD or so. It gnashes, trying to bite her hand, then pauses, seeming to perceive the two of us despite its lack of sense organs.

She stands, arms folded, regarding the monster.

“What. In the fuck. Is that.” Actually this isn’t really anything relative to the rest of this night so far, but I’ve still got Cleavage at the ready.

“Cacodemon. Object lesson in how much less interesting wrath is than lust. Isn’t that right, who’s a cute little parasite of a really boring emotion?”

She squats back down, teasing the thing with an extended finger. It nips at her, but doesn’t seem to have the guts to actually attack.

Guts, har har. This night...

“Is it dangerous?”

“If you were on the other side of the veil, it might be able to find a way of pissing you off. Here, nah. It’s too stupid to even realize how much more energy it could get out of you without the veil in the way. I don’t think it even really sees you. Anyway, only Succubi are actually embodied, there’s a decent chance it can’t touch us at all.”

Alright, you almost messed up my glove that time. Enough of that. “Shoo, fuck off, go on.”

She shoos the thing, but it just kind of backs off a few inches, growling impotently.

“You don’t seriously find it cute. Do you?” 

“Not really, but...if you went outside one day and there were no animals or anything, you’d be pretty creeped out, right? There should be all sorts of stuff like this guy running around limbo, gluttons and sluggards and whatever, especially on a planet with as many humans as Earth has. It’s kind of a nasty little thing, but not seeing any was starting to seriously creep me out. Makes you wonder what happened to everything else, you know? Limbo’s not supposed to be all empty and quiet like this. Seeing this little slutshamer is kind of a relief in a messed up way.”

Like if one day the T didn’t have mice any more. Got it. That’s...fucked up. “...and then this nasty-looking rat shows up and you’re actually glad to see it.”

“Yeah. I mean, this is my first time in limbo, but it just _feels_ wrong, deep down.”

“What do you think happened to all the rest?”

She stands, kicking at the persistent little monster - we must be invading its turf or something - and then looks up suddenly.

Here we go again. “Same things I hear whispering right now.”

“Fuck. Which way?”

I lean on the car with outstretched arms to gather strength, and then leap back when it purrs at me, engine that was quiescent a moment ago revving softly and then falling silent when I break contact.

“Whatthefuck!”

The whispering is just all around. How many can there be?

Wait, did that car just...things are what people make of them, in limbo, right? I’m exempt by not really being part of this whole stupid game, but if you bring a human to limbo, does that apply to the human somehow too? I thought with your whole material soul superpower thing you’d be immune, but maybe not? No one really talks about this part.

And everyone you know thinks machines like you.

No way. Will this work? Only one way to find out.

“I think it likes you.”

“What.”

“No time! Find a good one and see if it likes you too!”


	6. No Car Chases In Books

Oh hell no. Is this going where I think? Well, stealing a car is probably less evil on the whole than consorting with demons are doing dark rituals anyway, right? 

Besides, what’s going to happen, I’m going to go to hell? _That’d be convenient._

I cast about desperately, the maddening whisper already eroding my patience. What have we got? Of the cars parked in view, there’s not much that actually even looks like a vehicle, let alone a good one...there. An old blue BMW, maybe ten years out of date but in good shape, just across the road. It’s not a Tesla or anything but it’ll be faster than the (literal, bodywork with rusty ridges and a scuffed-off label reading ‘...ampbel...’ in red cursive on the hood) tin can we found the cacodemon under.

“This one.”

The BMW is distorted like everything else here, but instead of being cartoonish the effect is subtle - there’s something dignified and vulpine about the way the thing stands by the curb, like it’s the ‘muscle’ henchmen of some cyberpunk warlord, perfect suit getting not even a micron out of alignment as he breaks your jaw. 

It’s the license plate that seals it: “BAD WLF”. The thing is even TARDIS blue, give or take limbo’s weird light.

I’m about to try the door when the vulpine thing actually clicks in my head and I walk around to the front, holding my hand out to the nostril-like grill like you’d do with an unfamiliar dog, and sure enough when I’m all but touching the chrome the thing actually sniffs my hand, radiator fan powering up and shutting down in a snuffling burst. Maybe I’m projecting, but it seems expectant, so I lay my hand on the hood carefully, and it sniffs at the leg I’ve brought near the grill. I have to work hard to resist jumping back at the sound. It’s a dog or a wolf, right? Show no fear.

Now what? What happens next when I meet someone’s dog? Right, neck scritches - people always get all surprised how much their pets like me, but it’s just that I’ve never met a mammal that didn’t lurve having the back of its neck where it’s hard to groom for itself scritched (mental note: are succubi mammals or what? They surely have mammalian features, but that doesn’t mean anything, she could technically be a plant or something for all I know). There’s a little spot between the windshield and the hood where leaves and dead bugs and crap collect, maybe that’s the same? I scratch at the plastic there, trying to hide my disgust as I dig out the detritus and throw it aside.

That car pants happily with it’s radiator fan, but nothing else seems to happen.

Now what do I do?

Omigod so cute. I can practically feel the energy like you two are about to have a scene or something...it’s not just that people think machines like you, is it? It’s like...it’s like they think you do to them what you do to me. Like, every machine is actually yours the way I am.

This is so awesomely fucked. A whole planet that thinks every sub belongs to every dom and thinks that’s what people like you are for machines and it’s going to save our lives. So right, so wrong, I can practically feel Sade grinning at us.

...and you have no idea what’s going on, do you? Maybe you need some inspiration. I’ll just come up behind you and wrap myself around you and whisper all submissively in your ear, that will be fun for everyone.

“Show it who’s boss, baby, do like you did with me in the circle.”

Damn. Your skin’s all warm and your back’s all strong and my nipples are all sensitive against you. I’m never putting clothes on again, and neither are you.

Even for a succubus it’s a lascivious whisper. The temptation to turn and kiss her before she can finish talking is overpowering and only the effort of tuning out the growing whisper of the approaching perfekti keeps me on task. 

“I could just show you who’s boss some more, instead.” Mostly on task.

That said, what _did_ I do back at the circle? Even Lyra’s not going to be telling me to make the car suck me off, but...there was something I touched as I threw her around and pushed her down, something I can’t really put words to that was like and unlike the way I sit down at a computer and just expect it to do my bidding, the same feeling of power but not through simple mechanical cause-and-effect as with a machine.

Ironic I need to draw on that for a car. Can I even? I didn’t expect it to even exist and I’m still not sure it does, but I haven’t got any better ideas.

I take hold of the driver’s door handle, and try to summon up a commanding presence, standing up straight and looking intently at the car. I pull.

Locked.

I’m not actually surprised. Trying to look like I feel what I felt during the ritual is a far cry from actually feeling it.

I’m reminded of the sigline of someone on the rationalist subreddit: _Power is a social fantasy; control is a physical reality._ You drive cars by control. How the fuck should I establish power over one?

“It’s not going to listen.”

You look so strong and you’ve come so far tonight it’s easy to forget how nectar-starved and barely-alive you are. Hollow Heart that I am you’d think all of this would have made me ragequit you a hundred times by now, but knowing what I know and knowing why you’re like this it just makes me so sad I wanna die.

Incarnation school teacher, don't fail me now OOPS TOO LATE. FINE, maybe I was sitting there zoning out fantasizing about how _my_ big strong human wasn’t going to need any fuckin’ dom rescuing, but the whole ‘in aulden tymes’ and ‘don’t try this at home’ attitude everyone had that day didn’t exactly help things.

Now what are we going to do? What the fuck did they actually say?

Spikes! Spikespikespike perfekti coming! Think, you stupid little ball of sap!

Okay, chill, girl. Notes. Visualize page. Okay.

Don’t try to explain from scratch, create the energy from your end even if you have to top from the bottom like a little bitch. Cross your fingers and hope the flame catches because there’s fuckall else you can do. Then you’ll have a reference point. ‘Beware vested authority.’ That last little bullet point could have used some fucking explanation. Never did figure out what it means.

Maybe I should have stayed the extra day to find out in the next class. I probably should've.

Thank Sade for whatever got into you, or out of you, during that suicide circle of a ritual we did. I hope we can use that.

Then guide them back to the reference point. Shame I’m not a Mesmer or this would be lots easier...

Do you know how much you want this? I can practically taste it trying to get out of you.

Now the trick is, what’s the part of the ritual where you felt it the most? I’ll tell you where I felt it the most...

“Can you trust me some more?”

Well, that’s sort of a nod. I guess it’ll have to do.

“Alright, just listen and go with this, okay? Please? ‘s gonna be a little weird, but you’ll make it listen.”

Oh good, an actual nod.

“Close your eyes.”

Closed. Good. I’d better stop climbing on you so you can concentrate.

This would be a lot easier if I didn’t practically see a red LED countdown of doom to the perfekti finding us again ticking away out the corner of my eye...

“Now go back to before the ritual, when you were trying to make me tell you my name. You almost did force me to, you know. You’re not supposed to be able to compel me like that without a Hollow Heart Rite, but you came pretty close. It was fucking hot. So go there. Remember how you felt, how you were standing, what you were think. Put yourself there, make it real like you used to do imagining us together in the castle fountain, and then pull the handle the same way you tried to make me tell you my name.”

Wait, what? I’ve never told anyone that fantasy, and the girl I’m with in it is...holy fuck. Looks an awful lot like Lyra except human.

“Open, that’s an order.” I pull the handle, trying to shove the same kind of righteous indignation at the car as I did with Lyra before the ritual.

Nothing. It’s still locked. Can you jimmy a car that’s alive?

I shake my head, despairing. “We need another idea.”

In response, Lyra puts her hand tenderly over mine where it still rests on the door handle.

Fuck! What the fuck? What’s wrong? This completely isn’t what I was getting off you at the circle! Are you even trying?

Keep it together, self. If you start a fight right now we’re going to be in some serious dust. You know he can do this.

I still don’t get it.

“I didn’t _feel_ anything. I was just trying to keep you from doing something you’d regret. It wasn’t right for you to give up your real name like that, if that’s what we did back there.”

“My real name is the one you gave me, honey.”

Wasn’t right. I said of the lust-demon who was talking me through a dark ritual.

I have to heave a sigh at this one. Are you really guilting yourself about this? Don’t you know that...no, of course not.

God, there are too many fucking things to explain. If we could just stop being chased for like a month maybe we’d get somewhere understanding each other.

“You must have felt something at some point, because it was rolling off you so hot during the consecration I literally couldn’t think by the end.”

Which, I’ll tell you one thing: if we make it out of this, as soon as we’re rested up I’m dragging you down to one of the edgeplayers’ dungeons and drawing that circle again, because that was fucking _hardcore_.

What am I missing here? Something, something from my notes.

If I tell her, will she still love me? It’s a risk I’m going to have to run, I suppose, but I’ve got to say that nothing less than pain of certain death is going to make me say this to someone, and even then if the method were anything tamer than getting eaten by an evil spambot I’d have to take it under serious consideration.

Apparently I care rather much if she loves me. That’s...yeah. Can’t go down that hole right now.

“When. Um. Throwing you around. When I. Hit you.”

“Okay, then go there. That _was_ pretty hot.”

HOLY FUCK DUH! ‘Beware vested authority.’ It was kind of traumatic how you always thought there was a god watching and judging all your fantasies and using the data to play dolls with your life. The dust that did to us...I keep blocking it out, but fecking duh, that explains everything.

“And no, baby, nothing gave you the right to do that. That was power you took for yourself because you _wanted_ to, because you want _me_. You wanted me to be yours, so you took me _and now I’m yours_. That ritual we did, totally worked, if you didn’t notice.”

Beware vested authority. You never thought you were the one ordering me to tell my name. You were just playing mouthpiece for something bigger. No power of your own there at all.

Come on, turn around. I need to back this up with a visual. Yeah. Look at me. See how turned on I look thinking about this? See how it makes my nipples get all hard, how I can’t help playing with one just a liiiitle bit...

“I know I put you up to it but you’re the one who got into it. You made it your own and you _liked_ it and just in case it’s not obvious even with perfekti coming at us I’m getting all wet remembering it. So yeah, you made me listen, you can make this thing listen too. Feel me in your hands, hair all silky in your fist, body all limber and dominated. Feel the way I gave in when you threw me. Feel the way I jumped when you smacked my ass and feel how you _liked_ it. Feel the lust. Feel the power.”

God, around you the slighest thing just turns me into a puddle. If I go on with this little soliloquy I’m going to drip down my leg...well, there’s something we can work with. I’ll just take the hand I’m holding and show you what I think of aaaaalllll this hoo you like how smooth my outer lips are don’t you...come on, kiss me...mm.

Are nuclear-grade kiss-me eyes a succubus superpower or do I just have a talented one?

I do feel it, as we kiss and I seize her around the waist with my free hand, pulling her up as if this will somehow let me better drink of her.

The desperation not to be controlling, not to be a monster claws at the edge of my consciousness, but I ignore it for once, opening myself to the dark river that rushes inside me as I pull her of her feet, clutching her to me with a strength that will brook no resistance and kissing roughly, letting the parts of myself that want to ensnare her and hold her helpless, mine, unfold.

It’s strange that of the whole night, this moment feels more like summoning a demon than any other.

Ooooh hoooooh yeah there we go!

She surrenders slowly as I tighten my hold as if melting into my grip, mine, controlled, kissing back but compliantly, waiting for each move as I open her lips, embracing my tongue when I probe under hers, body going limp and soft in my arm when I take her lower lip between my teeth.

Strangeness, terror, a feeling of being deeply freakish even as I’m loved: yes, this is what I do to machines.

This is my car. It just hasn’t found out, yet.

When I’ve drunk enough nectar out of her to reel with the power, I break the kiss, placing her back on her feet with the hand I’ve twined in her hair, and, turning to the car, my car now, place a calm, steady hand on the car’s bodywork, and then pull the handle.

It pops open effortlessly, and even better I hear the BMW-distinctive ostentatious thunk of opening locks that tells everyone in 2002 you’ve got a key remote.

I stroke the bodywork. “Good boy. Oil change for you.”

It pants happily, and I drop into driver seat, jumping when Lyra accidentally honks the horn climbing over me into the passenger seat the instant I’m down.

Yeah yeah glare all you want.

“There’s a door on the other side, you know.”

“How boring. Now what?”

Good question. Instinctively, I’m playing my ‘get-in-a-car’ macro and buckling up, fixing seat position, setting the mirrors. Lyra watches, fascinated.

“Buckle up.” I indicate her seatbelt, having a feeling we’re going to need them before this is through.

Outlines of airbag breakaways are everywhere in the interior. I hope we don’t need those.

Oh, yeah, the weird little three-point body harness thing. Is this even safe? The third point slides through, won’t that tighten over my breasts like a slutshamer if I struggle too much with my hips?

Man, whoever came up with this thing must have _never_ gone topless. Can I put it in between, will that fit?

No, scratch that, they definitely had never seen breasts before at all. How the fuck do girl humans make this work? “Mrf. Can I put the top behind me or something?”

I don’t like it, but we don’t have time and it’s obvious that even German luxury car engineers don’t account for bare DDD-or-so’s when designing seatbelts. “Okay, but hold onto something, this is probably going to get interesting.”

Not least because I’ve only ever driven stick in videogames, I don’t add.

Still clinging to the rushing feel of that dark river, fueling it with a look at Lyra’s bare breasts rising and falling, all the hotter out of context in the fading-out interior lights, I stroke the dash and put my foot on the clutch to let the engine crank. “Okay, boy. Let’s go.”

As soon as it hits the floor, the engine roars to life, revving to redline. There’s no one parked ahead of us and I find the accelerator already at the floor so I just rest my foot on it, grab the wheel, and drop the clutch, and with a neck-snapping jerk we burn out, all four tires smoking.

Traction control? We peeled out. There’s a disable button that’s not lit, so it must be on, but I guess if the thing can pant it can have a sense of drama too. It’s also got some serious balls: one doesn’t exactly expect a BMW to be slow, but getting on the gas in this thing feels like launching a Saturn V, unleashing a terrible implacable fury. Clearly, whoever owns this car thinks very highly of it.

I’m expecting to give us whiplash trying to shift through the gears as we accelerate, but I only get as far as second gear before we’re going faster than I dare on suburban surface roads, and the car helps me with the shift, pushing at my foot with the clutch when I let it in too gingerly.

“Alright, do you have a fix on the perfekti? We’re gonna have to wander around until I figure out which way the highway is, we got kind of lost running away before.”

Why didn’t you say so sooner? “I can’t hear the perfekti in here so you’re gonna have to just watch out. I can do something about the ocean, though, gimme a sec.”

There’s a kind of surface-thing in front of me that looks smooth enough to draw on. It’s gonna be cramped as fuck, but I’m trying to scry the frigging ocean so I don’t exactly need much precision or sensitivity.

Just need to get out the porting ink. Shame I don’t have a pen. Oh dust, was it down the boot we took off to fix my leg? No, other one. Phew. 

Alright, carefully now...it’s hard to draw the way we’re flying around corners and bumping over stuff, but I’m not about to ask you to slow down. Inner circle. Outer ciiiircle...careful now...there. Make the little trident with the bar for the ocean and...ow. Ow that’s far. Right, you guys gave Neptune a whole planet. Scratch _that_ out before my eyes explode or something, but how the fuck am I supposed to scry the ocean without Neptune’s sign?

Fuck, um...water triangle? Oh hey look, water everywhere. Surprise.

Salt. Earth’s got salty oceans.

It’s not salt _atoms_ , but maybe I can...nope. Dammit. First time in my life I’m sad to be candy-flavored instead of savory.

There’s a certain satisfaction, I’ll admit, in tearing around the burbs at the speed the roads are actually made for, but we’re not getting any less lost.

I’m trying to keep things on an even keel so Lyra can do whatever spell she’s trying, but it’s not easy with the way limbo distorts the subdivision roads into a narrow, suddenly-twisting maze.

I’m also trying to at least head for more main-looking roads, climbing up the tree of traffic distribution, but the suburbs just seem endless with a tangled confusion I sinkingly suspect to be an effect of limbo’s distortion and I don’t recognize anything except the unglowing-glowing white mass that slides back into view in the mirrors a few seconds after I take each tire-squealing corner.

I don’t sweat when it’s hot, annoyingly, but I do sweat when I’m really _seriously_ playing Quake and the bullets are crawling toward me in slow motion while I live half a second in the future, and I’m finding myself drawing on that here, sweat beading on my foreh—

“FUCK! I’m driving!” Out of nowhere, Lyra’s reached across and wiped her fingers across my forehead, and the startlement and obscured vision have nearly run us into a tree. The side acceleration as I steer back onto the road is gut-wrenching and I wonder if the car is helping somehow as with the clutch.

“I needed salt!” There. Salt. Listening to my lopsided freehand circle feels pretty quoozy and it’s noisy as fuck because of course humans are full of salt water and there’s a lot of you around, but even near a city the ocean’s pretty clear.

“Go left next chance you get!”

“Okay.”

Also yumm, licking my finger.

“Your sweat tastes awesome when it’s fresh, by the way.”

“Not the time for flirting!”

“It’s always time for flirting!”

I blow by a couple of dead-end looking subdivision entrances and then just barely catch an artery-road that tees into the one we’re on, slamming the brakes and peeling around the corner, almost throwing Lyra into the dash with the deceleration but thankfully she’s already braced against it because of whatever the GPS spell thing is and then there’s this terrifying moment where first gear won’t go in and I have to downshift to second instead but then I let the clutch in and I’m thankful for the car’s help because we’re going much faster than I thought - somehow we’re managing what feels like two or three gee of lateral acceleration without unsticking or traction rolling - and the engine jumps almost to redline and I realize first gear would have just grenaded the whole thing. Good boy, don’t let me kill you.

I slam the gas pedal as soon as we’ve straightened out and then gulp involuntarily, some distant part of me surprised that gulping in the face of danger actually happens in reality. The road is straight, going through a commercial zone, and on the right there’s one of those big cheap buildings that still tries to be all architectural, and it’s crawling with perfekti that perk up and sort of ooze toward us as we approach. Church? School? Something else? What attracts these things, other than me attempting to lose my flowers?

“Are we going the right way?”

Lyra nods, face a mask of fear as she looks at the perfekti ahead and behind.

“Alright, let’s see if you assholes can do 90.” We’re actually already well past ninety miles an hour, but I’m going to get to say it exactly this once in my life and it may be the _last_ thing I ever say, so I’m not going to screw up the reference just for a number on a speedometer.

There are words covering the building, every surface encrusted in a black-on-white serif font, but I’m too busy dodging the perfekti that’s made it across the parking lot and into the road to read it. It’s massive, size of a semi or larger, and by the time we get there it’s covering three of the four lanes and we barely scrape through, driver’s side mirror sparking off the bodywork of a truck parked by the side of the road opposite the parking lot and then symbols and tendrils are flashing by the window behind Lyra’s silhouette and shrieking across our bodywork and then we’re past.

I don’t know if perfekti are exempt from the laws of physics the way my sex life apparently now is, but they seem to have some kind of momentum because the thing is sort of turning ponderously to follow us, accelerating in our direction even as it pivots.

The danger relatively past, I’m able to notice that we’re bumping up against the rev-limiter in fourth gear and upshift, gaining us a much-need burst of speed. I even have time to notice that the roads are freakishly empty even for the middle of the night. Maybe that’s just limbo?

Fucking hell, that was close. Even through the car I can feel this one...

“DODGE LEFT!” The tendril’s already rising as I blurt it but you’re quick on the draw and you slam us all sideways at the last second and the falling tendril just shatters empty pavement instead of us. Good, I hope that slows you down, motherfucker.

Sade’s Toybox that hurt. I’m told succubus breasts are made of bouncier stuff than human ones, but between the bumps and your cornering right now I’m still regretting leaving my bra behind something fierce. This is worse than the last part of the ferry-ride to Isla Virgo!

The road’s curving, we’ll need another one to keep going toward the ocean. Can we turn?

“Need to go right soon!”

This car is incredible. I think we just changed lanes so hard the bucket seat bruised my kidney.

Right. What’s on the right? Nothing. Strip malls, post apocalyptic or sparkling or both. No side roads. Fuck.

Now what do we do?

“DODGE AGAIN QUICK!” Is it telegraphing on purpose? Can perfekti play with their prey? I’m sure feeling toyed with, anyway.

There’s no oncoming traffic but I realize we’re on the wrong side of the road and instinctively dodge back over the yellow line, which is the opposite way we should have gone and so it’s close as fuck this time, the bumps as we fly over the cracked pavement practically knocking the teeth out of my head, wheel wrenching crazily in my hands from bumpsteer.

Overall we’re curving left, and there’s no sign of any other roads, still.

No, there. Is that the overpass of a highway crossing the road? Please be an interchange...wait.

“Is that thing a GPS or a compass?”

“What? DODGE RIGHT!”

Squealing tires, matching kidney bruise on the other side, fragments of pavement plocking off the windshield and rattling through the undercarriage.

When the big one finds you, may this song remind you, that they don’t have GPS in hell. “Is it telling you what roads we need or what direction the ocean is?”

“Direction!” Are you kidding? Maybe if I had half the Obsidian Ballroom’s floors to work with I could do the roads thing. Take me weeks, though, even with an army of Hench to draw all the circles for me.

Going to have to try that if we get out of this and I can con some people out of their Hench for a while. I wonder if Malina gives you a discount if you hire all of her?

“Point me the direction.”

She undrapes her tail from her thigh, and uses it to point a direction more-or-less parallel to the highway leading away to the right. Good. We’re already north of 110mph on a surface road, but the car feels solid so I add throttle anyway. Are the perfekti falling back?

Risking a glance in the rearview, it looks like the big one that’s been attacking us is having the same kind of trouble retracting that last tendril as saved us before, and it’s blocking enough of the road to hold up the pack that’s been catching up this whole time. It’ll be back on our tail in seconds, though.

There’s a road sign, flashing past so quick I can barely read it: “JCT I-69 1 MILE”. Limbo has distorted the outline of the sign into an odd shape I finally recognize as the silhouette of two safety-sign figures performing the eponymous sex act on each other.

For real? Route 69? There is an actual route 69 around here, much to everyone’s snickering, but what are the chances that’s going to be the one we blunder into?

Whatever, if we can make 110 on a surface road maybe we can go fast enough to outrun perfekti on a highway - I’m not convinced this car even has a top speed seeing as we’re going this fast and not even halfway to redline.

There’s a sign showing which direction is which way, but it’s past before I’m even sure I’ve seen it and desperately I realize that no matter what kind of turn there is we’re going to have to start to slow down about 30 seconds ago to make it, so I cross my fingers that this won’t give the perfekti time to catch up and slam the brakes as hard as I dare at this speed. The car teeters terrifyingly on the brink of fishtailing, but between me and the thing’s mechanical instincts we manage to keep pointed forward, and then there’s a horrible moment where I can’t make out how the ramps are arranged to figure out which way to go but I finally manage to tease out that the entrance on the left side of the road will put us going right on the highway.

It’s coming up and so are the perfekti. We’re probably going to die if I try this, but we’re definitely going to die if I don’t. Come on, boy, you’ve dreamed of this forever, I can feel it in the way you heel-toe for me when I shift...

“Hang on!”

Holy fuck that’s what the other lever in the middle does? Fuckfuckfuck we’re going to flip omigod this would be so much fun in another context!

Wait, crap, we weren’t supposed to go this way! “Right! Right! What are you doing! Wrong way!”

“Trust me.” I bite the words off against the acceleration of my first-ever real-life handbrake turn, but they’re lost in the squealing of tires and gnashing of gears as I drop the clutch back in when we somehow make it around the ninety-degree corner onto the on-ramp and then we’re too busy being centrifuged by taking the curving 30mph (according to the huge yellow sign that blurs by) ramp at at least twice that to argue.

Something’s wrong with space again, this didn’t look so steep from the ground.

Fucking hell. I’ve not generally been impressed trundling around Texan suburbs after learning to drive in the back streets of Boston, but what’s always really ground my gears about driving here is the way everyone else, apparently having never seen an _actual_ cramped, twisty-ass back road, treats the perfectly flat, perfectly straight and regular road network here like some kind of roller-coaster deathtrap.

As we crest the ramp and pull onto the highway, I’m now looking at what these roads look like to those people. We’re at least a few hundred feet in the air, and the highway snakes out ahead of us dipping and weaving like some demented Wipeout track raised variously on dirt causeways, cyberpunk-looking brutalist pillars, and precarious steampunk ironwork, crisscrossing in the distance with other highways. I hope the alien geometry will fuck with the perfekti as much as it’s going to fuck with us.

We’re about to find out, because the guardrail next to us crumples like cardboard and tears free, gripped by a perfekti tendril. I floor it and keep it there, the engine’s note rising without apparent limit, speedometer pegging at 155 even as we keep accelerating, and behind us there’s a vision-blurring impact as the perfekti tries again to pull itself up, succeeding this time. For an instant we get a horrifyingly clear look at its underside as it soars onto the road, but our acceleration is enough to throw off its aim and we just barely clear it, and it mercifully seems to need a moment to collect itself before giving chase.

Oh. How the fuck did you even figure that out? “We’re still not going the right way. Still need a right turn.”

Damn but I wish I could break contact with the circle and twist around to look behind us. “Exactly how about to die are we at the moment?”

I risk a look in the rearview, grateful for the empty roads, then gasp, hopeful. “We’re outrunning them! Hell yeah! Good boy!” I’d give the dash a loving pat but my hands are damn well not leaving the wheel at what must be almost 200mph.

Almost empty roads - a car crawls along our lane at the speed limit, our speed bringing us on top of it disconcertingly fast, and I swing around it with white-knuckled care, afraid we’ll lift off if I make any big control inputs.

“How much of a right turn do we need?”

Lyra grins, relief plastered all over her face, and points her tail right, perpendicular to the road.

“Alright. First chance I see.” In the distance I can see a couple of highways crossing this one, twisting away in mostly the direction we need to go. The ocean is hard to miss, right?

I’m about to let out a relieved sigh when a motion in the rearview catches my eye.

Lyra startles, twisting around to look behind us.

Holy dust what was that? It feels like someone just slapped me in the soul.

Well, so much for the scrying. I hope I can concentrate enough to hear it again. Guess I really had to look and...oh fuck.

It exploded. You’d think that’d be a good thing except for the part where it launched babies everywhere and one’s coming right down on us and oooh dust...

“DODGE!”

Too late.

There’s a terrifying thud on the roof, and a shriek of metal on pavement as the car bottoms out from the impact, the sudden friction throwing us against our seatbelts. We very near spin out and flip, but somehow I manage to keep us mostly pointing the direction we’re going long enough to see the baby perfekti’s tendril reach down across the windshield.

“Hang on!”

We’re still fishtailing, and I try to keep the oscillation going, just on the near side of a skid, in an attempt to hurl the thing off the car, and it does work after a couple of cycles, hurling the baby off Lyra’s side of the car where it bounces along the pavement, symbols trailing like sparks, but it’s clinging with tendrils to the bodywork and trying to reel itself in.

I consider grinding it against the guardrail, but I’m worried that at this speed that’ll put us into a spin.

“I need the sword! These windows open, right? How do I open them?”

Dear Sade please don’t let me end up too ugly to fuck from doing this.

I glance at Lyra, who’s ripping off a glove and shifting in the seat to reach for Cleavage’s hilt behind my head.

“There should be a button somewhere. Look for a symbol that looks like the shape of the window. Probably on your Door HANDLE!” I sort of shout the last bit because we’re dodging around another baby perfekti that’s landed in the road.

Symbol...button...where? There. Man, you guys use so much iconography I’m surprised you don’t accidentally summon all sorts of dust. Hell, maybe you do.

Okay, now for the hard part.

“I’m going to need a drink. A big one.”

“What, now? No way!” Succubus magic or not, there’s no way.

“It’s that or blood!” Please, please don’t make me use blood. I’m not a fucking vampire.

Dust, dust! It’s breaking the window, smashing at us with the tentacle. Starting to break the window. Strong glass, I’ve got to say. 

Who am I kidding? Blood isn’t going to digest fast enough to keep me from burning, anyway.

I’m missing something. ERGH! THINK! Of all the times to need an encouraging swat. THINK! 

Wait, what? Why am I thinking about the vested authority deal? And it has something to do with the sword? Fuu? What story did we tell about the...oooh.

Oh that is _fucked_.

Talk about your double-edged blades. Sade’s going to be proud of me tonight. 

Just how much can you strip down a ritual and still have it work? Can you pull something like this off _this_ off the cuff?

“Give me your hand. No fangs, promise.”

I really hoped we’d be able to save this for our Hollow Heart Rite. I know not everybody does and hey sometimes you just can’t wait to get to the good part, but at this rate the only thing that’s going to be left is...hah. Wouldn’t that be fucking ironic.

Well, technically it’d be ironic fucking.

I hold one out, grip on the wheel white-knuckled with the other. We’re going to be fucked if we have to shift.

She’d better have a good reason for this.

There’s a crunch from her window that chills me to the bone, but I don’t dare take my eyes off the road.

Lyra takes my hand, surprising me with the softness of her bare skin instead of a glove. Her hand is soft, inhumanly so, like it’s made of...

Here goes. I hope you have the balls to follow through with this. I hope you pick up on what I’m doing, because if you don’t there’s no way I can explain and have this work.

How’s the nonverbal communication in _your_ relationship? ‘bout to find out about mine...

Put your hand on my cunt. Heh, that surprised you, huh. Yeah, feels good, doesn’t it, aren’t you sad you can only pay enough attention to feel how my lips are warm and soft and not do anything with them? You think about driving, I’ll hold you there and make sure you can feel everything. Let me give myself.

Now, sounding all impressive and epic isn’t my usual MO, so I hope this doesn’t come off awkward...

“Okay, listen. This is yours. I came across universes to give myself to you and you jumped off one hell of a spiritual cliff to take me for yours and you know it. I belong to you and I have for a long time and you like it. You think I’m the best present you ever got, I can feel it every time you touch me. You know it. You know how you really feel about me. You know you own me. You know I’m not just being romantic when I say it.”

_That_ got to you. Oooh, yeah, explore on your own, I love your fingers as much as they love me...

Aaand now for the cross my fingers part. I hope you’re feeling what it tastes like and thinking what I’m trying to seduce you into.

Please please please be actually getting this.

“So, when I draw this sword, all I’m doing is using it to make sure that what’s yours stays yours. Remember that. I’m yours. I’m trying to stay yours. Like you want. Sir.”

Will it be enough? You believe it, you don’t quite want to yet but if you let that conflict in the car will stop listening to you and you know that, too.

That’s right, take me. Own it. Own me. I really hope you’ve got me by the cunt down in your heart the way you have in body.

Wrap my extra glove around my hand first just for good measure.

Ulp. Here goes.

“Take it. Defend us.”

Thank Sade for you saying that. I can practically feel the ritual slide home like a collar locking. Surprising how much tension that relieves, we must have really got somewhere with that consecration.

Times are going to be interesting around around the Abyss when we get back.

Crack. Yeah, that’s breaking glass. Time to stop stalling...

HOTHOTHOT! The fire strings out as I draw the thing almost like it’s confused, but you give us a sidelong glance and it seems to kind of calm down. God the heat hurts, but I’m not catching fire. Please keep working please keep working please keep working...

I whip it across the cabin and flinch when the fire crawls all over your shoulders before I remember how you stuck your hand right in it before. My big tough human.

Hothothothot okay keep this away from my body. Is there even room to swing it in here?

Oh, dude, I don’t even need to! The perfekti is hitting the same spot every time, I’ll just hold it edge-first right behind that and wait.

Weird how these things don’t seem to even notice a consecrated weapon right in their face until it’s burning their ass down.

Crack.

Crunch.

Hand burning. Hope not on fire.

Smash slice OW BURNING

Woo! Right down the middle, how do you like that, slutshamer? Bisected yourself real good!

Watching these things burn is fun.

My eyes are fixed ahead as I weave us through the baby perfekti that now dot the road and crawl up from the surrounding landscape, so all I see when the window breaks is two tips of perfekti tendrils that whip into the space between me and the dash, and then explode, unraveling violently. The cabin fills with deafening wind, and the car lurches dangerously as the now-burning perfekti loses its grip, changing our center of gravity wildly.

As soon as it loses hold, I catch the purple blur of Lyra tossing the sword into the back seat and tearing her other glove off. A burning smell like scorched sugar fills the car as it comes free, and she whimpers, the demonic edge of her worst pain wreathing her voice.

...ow ow ow oh god my hand. I’m still here, but ow my hand. Something when the sword connected, how did any energy at all get free without just vaporizing me? This is going to leave a wicked scar. Good thing I’m a gloves kind of girl.

Maybe I’ll get lucky and it’ll be a badass scar or something, like the lightening-bolt thing from that one fanfic you were so into.

On the upside, I just drew a consecrated sword and I’m still here, so that’s something - vested authority, bitches. It wasn’t ever me drawing the sword, it was you using me to do it.

Today I learned: that I’m never trying that ever again. Fucking ow. 

Jeez, that wind is something else.

Being down a window pane at this speed is actually serious business - a glance over shows me Lyra clinging to the door handle, wincing at an ugly burn on her bare right hand, the wind practically tearing her hair off, and for my part it’s powerful enough to interfere with keeping my hands on the wheel, and the asymmetric drag is having a pretty bad effect on the car’s handling.

JCT TX-6 SOUTH

GALVESTON

1 MILE

Baby perfekti still dot the road, but it looks like the pack following us destroyed itself to produce them. Either way we’ve got to slow down and the sign is one more reason.

At 200mph, one mile happens in 20 seconds. This is going to be interesting.

“BRACE YOURSELF!” _I_ can’t even hear myself over the gale. I get on the brakes, gingerly at first, but I have to ramp up the braking pretty hard to get us down to 70 in time to hit the ramp and the whole way it feels sickeningly like we’re going to flip tailgate over hood at any moment, but we make it, barely.

Worse than the nauseating drop of the ramp is the unexpected T-junction at the end. The car helps me through another handbrake turn that’s barely enough - we kiss the median of route 6 as we come round with a disconcerting impact but we’re barely moving compared to before and everything seems to hold together.

We’re back on a surface road through thinning suburbs, but there are only a couple of baby perfekti around (did they manage to target the explosion at the highway somehow?) and it’s a big road. I drop straight from fifth to second and start us accelerating again. The perfekti aren’t big enough to keep up and there’s fewer and fewer of them, so I don’t take us past 70.

We drive like that for a good while, just riding along in shock, both breathing like we’ve run a marathon, the seventy-mile-an-hour wind in Lyra’s shattered window seeming like a soft summer breeze after the 200mph gale we’ve just endured.

At length I have the presence of mind to lick off the little bit of Lyra’s wetness that still clings to my fingers, which brings me out of shock enough to realize that she needs help too.

I lay a hand on her thigh, right at the top, feeling the softness, trying to think of how good it felt wrapped around me before, even trying to accept that I’m apparently into both leather boots and monster girls, but my hand trembles and all I feel is the shaky terror of whipping tendrils and median walls rushing at us and the sound of shattering glass and the smell of burnt succubus.

Lyra turns to me and lays her unburned hand on mine, a look of pity fighting through the mask of pain on her face.

God, the energy coming off you...you’re not even in one piece in there, are you? And yet you’re still here. Second time tonight. You humans really are unbreakable.

Thank Sade, we’re out of the fucked up suburbs. Sad to say that these blank, empty fields are an improvement, but at least we’re not likely to get perfekti out here.

Is there anything around? No.

“I think we can slow down if you need to.”

Good God I need to. I just lift my foot off the gas and let engine braking slow us bit by bit. What I really want to do is stop, puke my guts by the side of the road, and then break down crying, but I’m afraid that if I let the car stop rolling it’ll never start again.

To say nothing of myself.

When it hits 25, I downshift and set the cruise control and drop my guard as much as I dare, taking long panicked breaths, unable to shake violence of this latest brush with death, forward motion of the car bringing the onrushing median wall back and back to my mind’s eye.

“Did we ditch them?”

“I think so.”

You look like I feel. I wish we could stop so you could hold me. Or I could hold you. Or something. We’ve still got a long swim ahead of us.

Coming down from the rush now. Ugh, everything hurts.

I want to hold onto your arm. There. I wish I could use both hands.

Taking her hand from mine, she wraps it around my bicep and I’m startled again at the softness of her bare hand. It occurs to me I’ve not really felt her bare-handed touch since we’ve met. It feels good, and the way she clings submissively feels good, and this and the exchange of energy it sparks calms us both fractionally.

Fractionally. I take a long, slow, ragged breath.

“I thought we were going to die back there. I’m sorry.”

“We made it, that’s the important thing.”

“How’s your hand?”

She flexes it, experimentally. I can’t see it very well, but it looks like the pattern of the sword’s handle-wrappings has branded itself into her palm, and there’s a wicked-looking burn spidering over her wrist and partway up her arm like she’s been hit with a high-volt, high-amp, high frequency electric shock. She still smells pitifully like burnt candy.

Holy crap. I’m going to have a legit lightening-bolt scar. Cool. I guess every blow has its rush after all.

“I’m gonna have a scar, but I’ll be okay. Feed me when you can and it’ll stop hurting.”

“If I give you some blood, will that fix it? I don’t need to get turned on for that, right?”

She shakes her head, sad.

“Cum’s better than blood for that sort of thing, but no, nothing heals scars from consecrated stuff. I’m afraid I’m stuck with this.”

That’s...poetic and horrible. “I’m so sorry.”

We ride in silence for a moment.

“And thank you. You saved both our lives. You’ve gotten hurt saving my life a lot tonight. I’m not missing how much that means.”

She’s about to reply, but I add: “You can still have some blood. Won’t it at least make you feel better?”

Ugh but I feel crumbly. Can I rest on your shoulder in here without getting in the way? Let’s find out...yeah. Yeah, that helps.

“It’ll heal me, but it makes me feel gross. I’m really only made to drink cum and such.”

“Gotcha.”

Her soft hair on my shoulder contrasts the hard, rounded edge of her horn, underlining her alienness. It should be disturbing, but I just want to hug her to me all the more.

It’s hard not to let the pressure of wanting to feed her interfere with the lust needed to do so. Just focus on her soft cheek against my arm, so feminine, how small and vulnerable she looks...

Oooh, that’s new. Soothing, makes me sleepy. What kind of energy is this? I haven’t had this off you before...there’s enough sex in it that it’s tasty and filling, but it’s not lust as such...

Omigod, this is you thinking I’m totally kawaii, isn’t it? Aw!

Okay, I can go to sleep. Better than sitting here hurting, and you’re obviously not in a talking mood, anyway. It’s sweet that you want to help, but this is. Please don’t make me explain that to you.

After a minute I realize I’ve been silent and that she’s heavy on my shoulder and breathing regularly despite everything. It’s insuperably cute and surprisingly arousing, yet, not in a way that would make me want to wake her for sex if we weren’t on the run.

I edge our speed up with the cruise control and we ride in relative peace for what seems like hours on the mercifully straight, empty road. Eventually she stirs, rising off my arm to stretch, and I take the opportunity to up shift before she settles back.

Her right hand is already looking a lot better, the burns scabbed over. She stirs when I look and I realize I’d do better to focus on her peacefully rising and falling breasts, and maybe spend some time meditating on what I wouldn’t give for a free hand right at the moment.

...no, that’s silly. I can drive one-handed, I’ve just forgotten while busy not dying. Uncurling one still-white-knuckled right hand from the wheel, I force myself to relax it and lay it on Lyra’s thigh, feeling the softness there, letting it in. I can see her visibly relax as lust stirs in me.

“Hey.”

“Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“’sok. Hard to get comfy, anyway, this seat isn’t made for wings.”

“There’s controls on the side of your seat, you might be able to adjust it comfier.” 

She reaches down gingerly, still favoring her wounded hand, and her seat motors whir for a few moments before she gives up with a huff.

“Are you up now?”

“I can go back to sleep if you want.”

“No, stay awake, I miss you.”

Aw!

“Yes Sir.”

“Do you feel any better?"

"A little. I..." **YAWWWN** heh "...it doesn't hurt now. Can you tell where we are?"

"This should go straight to the ocean, I think. We must be getting close by now, you were asleep for a while.”

Blink.

“We’re gonna make it.”

“Yeah. I think so.”

Holy fuck. Have I really been this fucking convinced we’re not gonna make it? Did I forget that thing about being unstoppable if you're a separated pair Hollow Hearts?

But yaaaawn still sleepy.  


“Do you have the energy to talk now?”

I shift my grip on her thigh, squeezing, close up beside her pussy, grazing the lips and feeling their warmth on my fingers despite the wind swirling in the car.

Unnf, I do now. Spread a little, maybe get fingered?

Nope, boo, but still tasty. You really _don’t_ ever stop. Yay for grabby hands.

Oh, right. Nod nod.

Waiting. C’mon, order me, what do you wanna talk about?

She's silent for a moment, and it gives the implications of being called 'Sir' a few moments ago a chance to attempt to sink in again. I blurt:

"So should we make up a safeword?"

Shrug?

“I don’t need to have one with you if you don’t wanna, but most people back home use ‘em so you should probably know what they are - the like, standard ones, anyway - just in case. Even if you’re not like playing, people use ‘em other times sometimes so you should know ‘em.”

“So like, Red/Yellow/Green, right?”  


I have read _some_ things.

“Yeah, but instead of red, yellow, green, back home it’s ni’l, arn, l’iagn. That’s what most people use, so you’ll wanna know them in case somebody who doesn’t speak English uses one.”

“Ni’l, arn, l’iagn. Ni’l for ‘stop and untie me’, arn for ‘check in’, l’iagn for ‘oh baby harder’. Right?”

Heh. “Yeah.”

“Nil means ‘nothing’ in a lot of languages I know.”

A reflex I’m somewhat sure doesn’t apply anymore cuts off the sentence before I can say that they’re _programming_ languages.

“It’s short for nihel, which is Infernal for black, but if you’re being poetic you can use it to mean ‘void’ or ‘nothing’, that’s the connotation. Then arn is ‘yellow’, and l’iagn is ‘purple’. We sorta had the colors thing first, don’t ask me how they got changed coming to earth.”

"Infernal."

The words, especially the last, ring demonically and beautifully on her voice.

“Yeah! I’m in the middle of learning, once we get home if you want I can catch you up and we can learn together. You can get up to talking dirty pretty good in a couple months...”

Infernal. The language demons speak. The language of hell.

In _Dungeons and Dragons_.

There are so many more important questions, but I have to ask.

“Why...why is it called Infernal?”

“It’s the language of the stars, stars are infernos, so, Infernal. That’s how people usually translate it, anyway, literally it’d be more like star-heart-words or something like that but that’s super awkward. Why?”

There’s a language that’s named like it should be the language of Hell, but it’s not, it’s the language of stars.

Because stars are alive. And they talk to each other. And to demons and humans, if we know their language.

I was ready, meeting Lyra, doing magic, seeing limbo, to find out there’s more to the universe than I’ve read in either my Bible or my Narnia or my Rationalist fanfics.

And there is, but there’s _so much_ more, and it’s all so amazing. I can’t keep up.

I can have my lover talk to me in the language of the stars. It’s as if I actually physically _see_ the army of romantic poets learning this and turning in their pens, beaten.

“Not important, just...say something to me in Infernal.”

“What should I say?”

“Whatever you want.”

Mrf, give me an order, c’mon. Well, obvious place to start.

“Eroho ia.”

Yeah, like I’m going to be a succubus and stop there. How the fuck does the conjugation on this work again? No irregular verbs in Infernal my ass...okay.

Let’s whisper the good part in your ear: “E vuo ma, ahn...nilgech...feroj’hen ammak. Ero’aghn ahk vuo en iahk...”

Ugh, I’m doing English-style phrasing again. That could have been so much more poetic.

Lust and seduction collide adorably with her halting command of the language: the last two sentences are obviously something sexual.

And then mythology and aesthetics turn inside out in my head. This is the language of the stars?

Of _course_ it’s the language of the stars. We’ve been looking up from the surface of the Earth for thousands of years at tiny silver points of light that twinkle in the night sky, but that’s not what stars _are_. Our view of them isn’t what it is to _be_ a star.

Stars are made of millions of Earth-masses of blazing plasma, of cores so dense they’re not even properly matter anymore, of magnetic fields that can rip planets apart, of nuclear fire hot enough to oppose gravity so strong it tears a hole in reality itself when the fire goes out. 

The language of the stars was never going to be silvery and lilting, or lofty and wise. Stars _burn_.

“Baby?”

“Sorry, I just...Infernal is the language of the stars. I dunno, that just sums you up somehow. Everything I’ve learned in my life tells me you should be evil and horrible just like everything I’ve learned tells me ‘Infernal’ is going to be the language of hell and sure enough it sounds dark and dangerous and rough, but then I meet you and get to know you and you’re _so_ not, you’re beautiful and sweet and you love me and yet somehow it’s _because_ you’re all demonic and monstry, just like infernal is beautiful _because_ it sounds like the core of a star. It’s...I...yeah. If we could stop I’d just kiss you instead of trying to be poetic.”

“Aw! You’re sweet.”

Snuggle. Carefully so that we don’t crash.

“So what did you say?”

“I said I love you and I hope you use me real hard when we stop because I want to be your...um, it’s like, somewhere between fucktoy and love-slave. Little more romantic than the first one and a little nastier than the second one and kinkier than both of ‘em. Except it’s not just ‘use’, it’s like...”

“I think I get the idea.”

Giggle. “Also it’s love as in the kind of love you have for a lover, Infernal doesn’t smash all the different kinds of love together under one word. _Eroho_ is for when...someone you want to own or have own you, have eat you up kinda, it’s hard to...hm. English sucks again, sorry.”

I suppose we’re going to have to go through the whole origin story thing before I can get an “I love you too” out of you. I wish you’d say it, it’s driving me up a wall seeing you know it and think you don’t like this.

Damn.

“For what it’s worth, if there was anyplace safe to stop around here we’d be in the back seat right now.”

Doing what, exactly, I’m not sure after that translation, but definitely doing _something_. She’s nothing if not inspiring, as is the softness of her thigh still in my hand and the warmth of her cunt on my fingers. When I slide my hand up to caress her outer lips, she spreads her thighs and slides down in the seat to press into my hand.

“You want my fingers.”

“Ooooh...oh yes, oh please play with me. I’m so hungry.”

Yeah, make me wet, you love to turn me on...

“You _can_ ask, you know. It’s not exactly a chore feeding you.”

“I like it...mmm...so much better when it’s your idea. Sir.”

Her lips are warming, getting noticably puffier, even starting to be damp, maybe. Can succubi directly get wet on the outside?

“You meant what you said about kinkier just now, didn’t you.”

Come on, inner lips now, find my clit. If I spread my legs more will that tempt you in? From there I bet you can feel how warm OH YES.

“I mean all of...mmm...it. Ritual and car thing...too...not just...ohmi...unh...wasn’t just for...fighting perfekti, I really want to be...ooooh...”

Why does...why does everything work so much better for you than anyone else? You’d think I’d never been fingered before. Or kissed. Or any of it. I don’t need help being loyal, seed-ghost, so why did you...gasp oh yeah that’s my clit woo!

Changing the subject by running my first two fingers over her clit and then down is probably more fun than it should be. We need to talk it over, but having this particular conversation while driving, watching road signs, fingering her, and looking out for perfekti is definitely about four layers of distraction too many.

How long is it supposed to take a girl to get turned on? I thought it was supposed to take time, but Lyra’s not, she’s already slick and wet and the way her inner lips kiss my finger makes it so tempting to put them inside her, but I’m...saving that. For when I can appreciate it a little more.

Returning to her clit: “Do you want to come?”

“I wanna turn you on, I’m hungry...tease me or get me off just as long as...mmm...you enjoy it...”

Oh. My lust is her food. Of _course_ she’s submissive: do anything to turn me on isn’t such a bad deal for her.

Should I feel bad for how seriously I consider teasing her?

“So wait, can you be horny and well-fed at the same time?”

“Yes? No? I’m always hungry...ooh...lust is tasty, but playing with me makes me wanna cum, too, they’re like, separate needs...only, mmm, not...’s hard to explain...”

On human girls, I’ve read that there’s supposedly a spot on their clit where the nerve comes out to wrap around the surface, that’s much more sensitive than the rest. I have no idea if this applies to succubi, or is even anything but one of those Internet myths with humans, but she definitely doesn’t seem to mind my looking around for it...

“Nnnnnn oh my...”

Fuck **damn** that’s intense.

Aha. 

When I settle into circling over and over the spot, she stiffens in her seat, spreading her legs and arching her back, head thrown back, and I almost stop, thinking it’s too soon, but she...

Oooooh gasp omigod gaaaasp pant...holy fuck _that_ made me cum right quick.

“I’m...” Pant. “...I hope I...” Pant, jeez, can’t help myself okay yum you like that it’s a real shame you can’t stop and actually watch my heaving bosoms instead of just glancing. “...hope I was allowed to cum just there. Though. Dunno if I...” Pant. “...could’ve not, jeez.”

Well, you enjoyed it, even if I am in trouble now at least I got a nice snack.

“It’s fine, I wanted you to.”

“Um. Do you want the nectar?”

Sade knows you must need it.

Distracted by listening to her come, it comes to me that I still have my fingers between her lips, resting on either side of her clit.

Nectar. Yeah. Nectar already all over my hand, but I reach into the folds of her lips, trying to take as much onto my fingers as I can, realizing I’m still shaky and rattled under the horniness as the moment passes.

Ohohohoo nf so sensitive after I cum, makes me shudder...

It’s worrying to realize how out of it I’ve been when licking her flowery musk off my fingers clears my head. How late is it? The sky is still black and the car’s clock just shows ‘--:-- AM’, but in the real world the sun must be well up by now.

“How are you now?”

Close back up, nestle on your shoulder like before, so comfy.

Makes you so happy. Makes you think I’m so cute...

“Fed. Sleepy...”

Pain’s creeping back into her voice, and she sounds loopy and exhausted, about how I feel even after a handful of nectar.

“Go back to sleep if you can. I’ll wake you when we get near the shore.”

She answers in the distant, cooing voice of someone already most of the way to dreamland:

“Yes sir...”

Ooogh, yeah, good idea before the high wears off.

She closes her legs again, rubbing thighs together happily, and then fidgets in the seat, shifting her hips to the side as she settles onto me again so that her tail is freed to come wrapping around to settle warmly onto my thigh.

Just above the horizon, I can see stars glowing over where the sea will be, burning like lasers after hours of limbo’s null sky.

I wonder what they’re saying?


	7. The Nearest Shore

Ugly dreams. Perfekti and falling and feathers.

Feathers?

Lyra sits bolt upright, head whipping around, looking for something.

“It’s okay. You had a nightmare. Look, we’re almost there.” We’re crossing the marshes before Galveston, the bridge looming up ahead of us not even a mile off.

She’s not comforted and I’m about to say something reassuring when a meteor flashes into the ground beyond the bridge, all in an instant, sending up a massive fireball when it hits, but the flames are cold and blue-white and don’t move like flames are supposed to.

No. No. Oh no. So cold.

“Holy shit! I really hope that didn’t take out the road!”

The smoke clears, and wings, long and thin, feathered with crackling light that could be plasma or a glowing solid or something else entirely, unfold from the crater, hundreds of feet long. Two, four, six. Three pairs, lifting a blinding figure from the rubble where they meet.

Lyra mouths a single word, her voice made of ice, barely audible.

“Seraphim.”

It’s an angel alright, the real deal. It’s an angel even Gendo Ikari would hide from, tall and cold and radiating a terrible indifference like some kind of physical force. It’s not from here, it’s not of here, and the rules of here don’t apply to it. This is what ants feel like.

We’ve crossed onto the bridge while I’ve been gawking, and there’s nowhere to go but forward.

“Holy shit, what are we gonna do now?”

Lyra’s transfixed, face lined with terror. I guess I’m on my own. Once across the bridge we can get on side roads. Will it follow if we do? Does it even see us? Is it even hostile?

Lyra clearly thinks so.

Dimly, I realize that this isn’t Middle Earth and angels don’t transmogrify into Balrogs when they go evil.

More disturbingly: does an angel have to _go_ evil to be hostile to me at this point?

There’s nothing for it. I bang a tire-squealing handbrake turn right as soon as we’re off the bridge, and I can’t believe my luck when the Gulf swings into view at the end of a couple dozen blocks of tourist town.

From this aspect it’s clear that the angel has come down right in the middle of the highway we were on, but it doesn’t seem to react to us. What it does do is stand, and produce a titanic, retina-searing weapon from nowhere.

I can’t get any more specific than that. It’s in the angel’s hand and it has a location in space and the image of it subtends an angle on my retinas, but the part of me that turns images into symbols and finds the meaning of the symbols is saying ‘sword’ and ‘spear’ and ‘gun’ and ‘ICBM’ and ‘strong AI botnet’ and a bunch of other things I don’t understand all at once to the same image.

It aims the weapon, and rubble blooms from a point to our left, accompanied by a fading white haze. Perfekti?

“I don’t think it sees us!”

We’re so close. So close. I swear I can hear the stars singing. Please, please, please, Sade grant us something sideways...

Is that the ocean up there?

Lyra starts from her trance, a strange elation on her face, eyes fixed on the waves in the distance.

The angel leaps, and I floor it, tearing down the narrow road. We’re coming up on the shore, I can see what looks like sand now and dead ahead a tiny causeway leading to a pier, just wide enough for a car, dead-ending in a bait shop or snack bar or some such tiny hut.

Rubble, symbols, and baby perfekti rain around us, and the angel comes down dead ahead of us, shattering the building to splinters and splashing the shallow water into a cloud nearly the height of its wings.

There's nowhere to turn, no side-road, no way to go but forward. I set my teeth, and stare the angel down. I'll only even know something has happened in retrospect, because right now I'm too busy being defiant.

It's exactly not that this is the hill I will die on, not that I'm willing to risk everything for what lies beyond the angel now. It's just as simple as this: this _cannot_  be how our story ends. I will not accept it. We will have our happily ever after, come, heh, Hell or high water.

The angel leaps away, landing behind us almost immediately, weapon swinging, razing the city block by block as it comes around.  


“There’s a perfekti in our way!”

Sure enough, clinging to the shattered end of the causeway is baby perfekti, a migraine-inducing speed-bump at the end of our path. Just beyond, maybe fifteen feet of gap over the shattered remains of the shack at worst, the pier continues out into the sea, serene.

It’s a split-second decision to make the gamble, but this car has done everything I’ve asked of it with supernatural grace, and in another second or two we’re going to be atomized by an angelic abstract weapon anyway.

You’re a good boy. You’re going to go to car heaven where there’s autocross all day long and fresh tires every ten miles.

“Wrong. The perfekti is our way in.” One perfect, sublime moment, one perfect, sublime reference. Otaku nirvana at the moment of death.

I keep it floored, and we hit the perfekti with a bonecrunching impact, hurling the front end into the air. “YAH!”

The engine screams, load removed as all four wheels leave the ground.

We’re gonna die. We’re gonna die. We’re gonna die.

Gah! Death goes crunch and feels like a kick in the ass? I guess that...

No! Landing on a wooden road goes crunch! Did we make it? We made it! WOO!

When we connect with the pier and keep rolling Lyra lets out a jubilant yelp like someone striking a power chord on the most wonderful harp ever built, voice ringing with hope, waking something in me.

Gods, devils, I will defy whatever it takes. We _will_ make it.

There’s a thin little rail, rushing at us at the end of the pier.

We need to be in the water, and that angel’s going to burn you anyway, car. Let’s go out in style. I floor it again, my foot having drifted off the pedal during freefall.

Don’t look back. If you don’t look back it’s not happening back there.

Go go go go go go go go go...

For the second time today a guardrail rushes at us, but it’s delicate wood, and shatters satisfyingly as we collide and then there’s another moment of freefall before the sickening jolt of impact and everything—

Time skips a second, or I do, and we’re in the water, floating, cabin of the car a cloud of airbags that’ve blossomed from every surface without regard to whether it’d be possible for an airbag to exist there.

Y’know, as a Sade and a Hollow Heart I’m used to the idea of getting smacked in the ass by stuff I love, but even with all these sudden pillow things I’m not sure all my parts are still connected to each other. I’m glad to see you too, ocean, but fucking ow.

Spikes, angel, let’s get swimming already.

“Don’t forget the sword, it’s all special now!” I hope we never need it again but one more night like this with it and you’d probably be able to go toe-to-toe with that seraphim.

Well, no. But’s it’s a pretty badass sword by this point.

I’m busy tearing off my seatbelt, panicked as water bubbles out of the under-seat vents and leaks through the doors, but as soon as I’m free I twist around and fight through the airbags to grab Cleavage off the back seat. There’s no room to sheathe it in the car, but we need to get the fuck out anyway.

Lyra! She’s struggling with her door, trying to pry it open.

“Just go out the window! I’m coming!”

Oh. Duh. Rgh spike spike spike I’m still bound! “Nil! Untie me!”

Crap, of course they don’t have seatbelts in hell. The button’s already underwater, but I feel for it and manage to release her after a moment of terrified fumbling and she slithers out of the belt and out the window instantly. For me it’s a tight fit, but I’m not going to hang around trying to open the doors and get vaporized. Salt burns in the gashes the broken window leaves as I plunge through, the cold water drawing a gasp from me as I fall into it.

Shockwaves make my ears ring and thud through the water as the angel tears the city apart, the epicenter of destruction marching slowly but relentlessly in our direction...

I like swimming but I never thought I’d be this happy to be in the water.

What’s taking you so long getting out of the car? Hurry!

Finally. I grab your hand as soon as you’re near.

“Don’t! Let! Go!”

Yes please. You holding my wrist is much nicer than me holding yours.

Dive and pull you with me, not a moment too soon. I’ve never been so glad to have wings to swim with...what was that light? How close was this, did the car just get vaporized or whatever? Something’s wrong with my right wing but I don’t give a shit. I’ll go one-winged forever if I have to just as long as we make it through this.

I’m _not_ looking back at this shit. Dive.

Dear Sade, please please let the ocean be deep enough here.

An eardrum-bursting shockwave and a blast of heat that even makes it through the water nearly turn us upside down as we dive, but Lyra’s a good swimmer and we keep descending, deeper and deeper.

The pressure pounds in my ears, the water freezes me, the fizzing sound of Cleavage’s fire fighting the water rattles my in head, my lungs start to burst for the deep breath I didn’t have time to take before we dived, and it all fades to black, only the sword’s fizzing buzz and Lyra’s small wrist in my claw of a hand, her iron grip clutching mutually back on my wrist, remain, and then something seems to turn, disorienting: it still feels like we’re diving, but we must be headed back toward the surface, forced by lack of air. My eyes are closed, but there’s a light on them as the pressure fades away.

Light?

We break the surface and I gasp a desperate breath, lungs filling with an air sweeter than I’d have thought possible - I must have been really on the edge of drowning - and then gasp again as we drop, riding down the side of a wave thirty feet high or more, an echo of the city’s destruction roiling the sea.

My eyes are screwed shut, stinging with salt water, but I don’t care. Where is Lyra? In my hand, but I need to hold her. Somehow I get Cleavage back in its sheath and then I pull her to me, and she responds by clutching me with all four limbs, treading water with her wings instead I suppose, head buried in my shoulder, shaking with sobs.

The angel’s going to blast us any second, say it now or say it never.

“I don’t know how I can know after a couple of hours, but I know. I love you. I’m glad I knew you before we died.”

# END OF PART I


	8. Many Waters

What? Oh. Snif. Oh, hehe. “Open your eyes, baby.”

They’re full of salt, but I manage to free a hand and rub them enough that I can open them and take a last look a Lyra’s beautiful form and...

Words fail.

All possible symbols in all theoretically possible concept serialization schemes under all conceivable and inconceivable models of computation fail.

They should have sent a poet, but all the poet would say is that they should have sent a god.

Lyra’s there, beautiful as ever, smiling with tears in her eyes a joyful smile that will break into laughter at any moment, but framing her head is...heaven. It has to be.

We’re floating in an ocean.

We’re inside the Starry Night.

We’re in the depths of space.

I don’t know how else to explain it. There’s water, massive waves that gently lift and drop us, size tempered by the corresponding slowness of motion, shining a pale purple around us, an endless ocean that gives no regard to gravity or horizon, swooping and curling with the motion of the sky in the Van Gogh painting, waves piled recursively on waves until they’re the size of moons, planets, galaxies, making great valleys, endless mountains aligned on every possible axis, tendrils of water curling away like the arms of spiral galaxies to join other masses of the staggering, directionless sea or find their way curling into space.

Above us, so close we should be on fire from the radiation, turns a massive gas giant planet, streaks of purple-and-green clouds defining an axis of rotation almost parallel to the local horizon. A tendril of water spirals up and around it from the main mass of sea, and behind it the ocean continues, a wall of water light-hours, light- _years_ across curving up and around, curling and subdividing into a fractal of peaks, tendrils, and valleys, marked with waves I can’t even conceive the scale of but to see that stars shine between the planet and the backdrop of ocean. One hovers at the planet’s horizon, near enough to be a small sun for us, its light blending with the planet’s purple glow to give our part of the sea its color, making a blinding jewel set into the planet’s silhouette. Elsewhere the sea shines brilliant cobalt blue, or darkly luminescent, or glowing golden in the light of the skies that wind in and out of the water.

Beyond the sea, behind the planet and everywhere else that isn’t visibly water, the sky is an impossible blast of stars and galaxies and nebulae, so densely packed and varied it’s amazing they’re even discernible as distinct points of light.

On earth, they wouldn’t be - we’re breathing warm air that is the fulfillment of every restless, longing summer night ever lived - but everywhere I look everything has the diamond-sharp definition of hard vacuum.

I’m not one to weep at beauty, but the salty drop that rolls into my open mouth isn’t seawater.

There’s no land in sight, but I don’t care. I’d trade eternities to drown in this.

When my eyes finally turn back to Lyra’s shining face, she wipes a tear and speaks in a tremulous voice.

“I love you too. If we’d died, it would have still been worth it, yeah.”

Kiss me.

Slowly, tenderly, I reach for her lips with mine, savoring the softness and the sweetness. I drink of her, and at length I warm enough that she can drink of me as well.

How long have we been kissing? I don’t care. Let’s make out here, forever.

We made it.

We made it.

We made it.

Snif.

I didn’t think it’d be so easy to cry and kiss at the same but I’m not complaining. Hey, don’t stop, you were just starting to feed me...OMIGOD AWW HEHE quit kissing away my tears it’s making me cry even harder.

Oh sweetie, you’re crying just as hard. I wonder how human tears are? Do they count as nectar?

Oh. Whoah. Sniffle. It’s like I can taste how you feel. Is this what drinking my nectar is like for you?

They say the material plane is grey, but I had no idea, not really. You’ve never seen anything beautiful before, have you?

Except me. Oh. You look at me this way. Oh my god.

C’mon, kiss me more. If I follow your mouth with mine will you get it?

You will...yeah. Feel me. Feel how I rub up against you, all soft and warm. Feel my breasts all squished up against your big strong chest? Can you tell how safe I feel in your arms?

You can, and you like it. Good, I need you. Fill me.

Her tears taste sweet and floral like the rest of her, but somehow different in tone. I can’t shake the idea that I’m eating a different part of the same dessert.

We kiss for what could be fifteen seconds or thirty years. By nectar or relief or Lyra’s warm, naked body wrapped around mine without a single planck-volume of space between us I start to feel a lot better, adrenaline draining away to leave only the feeling of her nectar unravelling tight muscles and bruises.

Even in this moment there’s a hunger in her touch, a need that breaks my heart even as I fulfill it. It’s beautiful and terrible and perfect.

Despite the strength we grant each other making out, we’re flagging from treading water, easy as it is in this strange, bouyant sea, and I finally have to break the kiss to breathe harder, and Lyra lets out another of her musical whoops the second I do.

“We made it. We made it! WOO! We’re safe. Wanna play? I bet there’s a raft hanging around.”

Play, or sleep for a couple billion years. _Is_ there a raft? Where are we?

She kind of wiggles in my embrace, unwrapping from me, but after all this I can’t let her go.

I said I loved her, and I meant it. But it’s been a couple of hours at most. How can this be possible? Am I just rattled from a night of abject terror?

“It’s okay, baby, I just wanna stick my head in the water and see where we are.”

Shame we don’t have a leash, but then what are tails for?

She wraps her tail around my wrist, and taking hold of it in my hand allows me to let go of her body, and she dives, nimble as a fish, tail going vaguely taught after a second, pulling this way and that.

Now, from down here can I see any raft anchors? Sweet, there’s one, not even a dozen cubits away. Talk about your precision landings.

I know it’s supposed to be too far, but I swear I can just barely see the lights down below where it’s really dark.

Hey, is that the new ferry? Did they get it working? The whole hex-forcefield thing is fucking metal, I’ve got to say. Go team Dres!

She stays down worryingly long, and I’m about to haul her back up when she surfaces.

“This way, c’mon, we can sit and catch our breath.”

She’s been underwater for a solid two or three minutes, but she’s not even winded, and now her tail is tugging me powerfully through the water toward a low black shape I can only see now and then among the waves. As we approach, it seems that we’re swimming into a circle of calm, as if there’s some force that compresses the waves smaller and smaller until they’re the small but tumultous waves of a large lake on a windy day.

It’s stone, natch. Sade’s Balls I missed feeling safe so much, but let’s get one thing clear, Rocks. This human here is my incubator. I went through some serious dust to find him again. I was born to belong to him, and you _will_ believe that whatever he does, whatever he tries, whether it goes right or wrong, I consent to it. We will get things figured out, on our own, and until we do I can handle the spikeups, and until we do I’m not going to spend all the time thinking about this when I could be fucking, so this right here is my consent, once and for all. Clear? Yes, even if he doesn’t listen to my safewords. Yes, I want to break instead of be protected, so you will not give him so much as the tiniest warning rumble. Not even a needle. Nothing. You can keep me safe as much as you want, but not from this guy. Savvy?

It’s not far, and before I know it she’s leapt out of the water onto a raft made of the same glossy black stone Cleavage’s blade is cut from. I climb up after her, gripping onto a small rounded ledge that circles the edge, carved at intervals with faces or gargoyle-ish things I can’t make out in the waves. On top, the raft is flat-topped, maybe twenty feet square and apparently seamless, its shiny surface inlaid with a pair of concentric pentagrams in silver - the smaller one inverse to the larger, its points touching the corners of the pentagon at the center of the large star - each ringed by a double-circle filled with the same script as Lyra used during the ritual we did. It’s made of stone, but it rises and falls gently with what’s left of the waves as if floating.

Lyra sits on the edge of the raft, and I sit beside her, arm around her shoulders, and in response she folds a wing around me, so with my free hand I stroke the tip where it settles by my side, the skin strangely soft under my fingers. Smooth, powerful muscles move under the surface as she leans into the attention.

“You have one mighty lung capacity, by the way.”

It’s so, so easy to forget how much you have to learn, especially when you pull off stuff like what you did with that car. The Capricorns are going to kill me, all the books I’m going to make them find and check out for us.

“It feels good and gasping and stuff like...it’s almost like cumming, sometimes you just have to, but I don’t need air to survive. Just lust.”

“ _That’s_ Power Perversion Potential if I’ve ever heard of it.”

Grin. I knew this was in you somewhere. Keep it up.

“You’re learning.”

There’s so much to talk about. So much to do. Where do we even start? I wish you’d decide. Maybe you will if I just snuggle on your shoulder and let you get used to the view for a while.

You could sit looking at this for lifetimes, and we do. Slowly, the star sinks behind the planet, lengthening our shadows as the light dims.

No way. Did we get here just as the Eye is eclipsing Omega? Talk about your timing! It hasn’t been night here my whole life, and I get to sit here and watch my very first starset with you. It’s enough to make you think there’s such a thing as fate.

I hope watching the Eye open is as epic as they say. Hard to imagine it not being.

“How did we get here? _Are_ we dead? This looks like heaven.”

If heaven includes a swimming raft designed by Slayer’s album cover artist. But then, stranger things have happened tonight.

Lyra’s quiet, thoughtful seeming. I can’t really blame her, for myself I’m having an odd mental image of this endless crowd of questions, worries, hopes, and fears packing my head but all silent, just gawking at the view.

How does the saying go?

“All seas are the True Sea. All you have to do is stop thinking and swim for the real surface.”

Dusty explanation really, but how do you convey something that innate? I know where I came from and I always know the way back. Just drop me in the water. It must be weird for humans not having that. Don’t you guys always feel lost?

“No, we’re not dead. Welcome home, baby.”

What else could it possibly be called? It’s the fulfillment of oceans. It’s like every time you’ve ever looked out at the horizon line, or stared into the void between the stars on a cloudless night and wondered _what’s out there_ is that electric moment of anticipation before a kiss, and this is the kiss and it’s a succubus kiss, inhuman and otherworldly and full of strange energy and heartbreakingly, impossibly beautiful and comforting.

“This is your home?”

“Ours, now. Well, home is downstairs. But I thought you’d wanna see this first.”

Downstairs? Heh. Not from hell, indeed.

“Thank you. This is amazing. I...this is so beautiful I can’t think. Is this heaven?”

If I hadn’t just seen an angel I’d think she was one for real.

You’re not kidding, are you? Your energy tastes almost drunk or something. I know humans like the Sea, but damn.

I really don’t wanna get into the whole big metaphysical discussion right now. I know I’m being a bad little femme not answering you, but soon I’m not gonna have the choice anyway so cut me some slack. I just want to have this romantic moment together. I know I’ll see the Eye open and close as many times as I want in my life, but I’m only going to get to sit here with you and watch it for the first time once. That’s too special to end up arguing about what constitutes heaven.

“Look, the Eye is opening!”

We’ve been sitting, Lyra’s head on my shoulder, curve of her horn fitting perfectly around me so that what rests on me is her silky hair and soft flesh, her wing soft and comforting like a blanket, for who can say how long? Does time even work right here? Heaven is eternity, maybe this is what that feels like. I’d asked a question, but it’s not important, nothing is important but Lyra’s curves under my arm that’s around her and the view I’m lost in.

Her voice startles me back from the void. 

“The Eye?”

She raises her scarred - the wound has already healed into zig-zagging scar tissue - right hand and points to the planet that dominates the sky.

“The Eye of Sade. Watch.”

Slowly, the last of the sun - the star - sinks behind the planet’s arm, and the deep dark of interstellar night washes over us, Lyra and the waves and my hand in front of my face becoming starlit silhouettes. Other parts of the Sea (it’s somehow impossible to think of this place without capital letters) stay lit, but they’re so far away - it could be light-years, if some of those points of light are normal stars - they don’t illuminate us any more than do the riot of stars in the void.

In the moment of darkness, I turn her face to mine and kiss her, slow and deep and long.

We’re going to miss it but I’ll miss just about anything for a kiss like this. Wonder if I can talk and kiss at the same time?

“Look...mmf...look at the. Mmmm...”

Well I can’t if you keep messing with my tongue like that! Hehe, tickles, this is fun...

It takes me a second to figure out that she’s trying to talk, and once I do there’s a certain irresistability to getting in the way of her attempts to form words, especially effective because she smiles or giggles every time I mess her up. Eventually she gets enough of the sentence out that I notice a change in the starlight and break the kiss to look up.

“Look.”

There’s an arc of light, just a sliver, in the planet’s atmosphere, the star’s light refracting through the atmosphere, focused by some odd property of the green-and-purple clouds to make an arc like a winking eye.

“That’s amazing.”

“It’s just getting started.”

The arc should fade as the sun sets, but instead it grows, spreading over long minutes to encircle half the planet’s disk. Is this possible? Could you do it even with godlike planetary engineering, carefully arranging layers of gas with different refractive indices to make a cosmic-scale Fresnel lens? Even then, through a whole planet, and a gas giant at that? You’d need airborne optical fibre or something and the star would have to be a supernova...

It doesn’t matter if it’s possible. It’s right there in front of me.

The arc reaches halfway around the planet, widening and brightening, outlining Lyra’s form in dim purple-and-green that don’t quite meld together, and then the Eye winks open, concentric rings of brilliant light the cold white color of the star but fuzzed with purple and green refractive fringes rushing into existence across the face of the planet in less than a second, forming a perfect negative image of an eye with a blazing white pupil and brilliant purple-and-green iris. At the last moment of the Eye’s opening, a fine ring of dust or ice around the planet catches the light, angled into a lopsided ellipse so that the Eye is laughing, or lustful, or pleased, or all three, black cornea flecked with stars and galaxies.

It’s still night, but the reflection of the eye in the waves makes the sea luminous, giving the waves and foam where it occurs beautiful glowing edges, an effect that slams into existence all around us when the eye opens but then goes rushing across the distant Sea like an expanding shockwave.

...it takes me a moment to realize that those places must be light-seconds away and I’m watching the opening Eye’s light expand through space so far away I can see its progress. If we’re in nighttime-gloaming under this light, how is there enough of it for me to see it reflected from light-seconds away?

It doesn’t matter if it’s possible. It’s right there in front of me.

It’s funny how things fall together sometimes, enough to make me believe some divine providence brought me here if that weren’t counter to everything I’ve thought providence was supposed to push you toward. How many lonely nights have I spent thinking it’s impossible that a girl would ever want someone like me? That I am in some vague way monstrous and unlovable? I’ve never understood how or why, but all my life it’s been burned into the walls of my soul in letters of fire a light-year high.

And yet, here I am in this impossible place, in this impossible moment, with this impossible girl, impossibly in love.

Deeper magic, as they say, from before the dawn of time. Maybe I am a monster, but so is she. It’s time I _really_ broke the rules.

This...I’m glad I got to see this with you. Maybe it’s just the obsidian raft but it feels like sitting here watching this with you is washing my soul. Sade knows it could use a bath after all that time on Earth.

Hey, where are you going? Oh, we’re getting up, okay. Take your hand and be pulled up? Hell yes. Relax, the wounds are healed, see? You can hold on.

Hehe! Yeah, I’m lighter than I look, huh? Bouncier, too, just you wait... 

I kind of feel bad giggling at you almost falling on your ass like that but the look on your face when you learn something new about me is so cute and happy I can’t help it.

“You’re not even slightly human, are you?”

“Not even a little.”

And you love it. Wait’ll you find out why...

“Will you take off your boots? And the hair-thing? You’re beautiful and I want to see you. Just you. As you really are.”

That’s...aww. Why does that make me feel all weepy?

Okay. Gotta sit down to get these off...spikes! My gloves! I left my fucking gloves in the fucking car! I really liked those gloves. So did you, that’s the worst of it. Well, you can make me get more when we go inside. If I’m honest I’ll like ‘em better if they’re your choice.

Sade’s balls but it’s nice saying ‘when’ instead of ‘if’.

There, boots wiggled off. If I reach for you will you give me a hand up? Of course you will, and this time you’re ready for me not to weigh much.

Your breath is so hot right now I can feel it through my hair as you wrap me up and hug me. I smell pretty good, huh?

You’re letting go. So you can see, I’m guessing. Well, then let’s stand in the middle of the center pentagram and do this with some proper drama.

Middle of a pentagram. I can’t wait for you to learn how these work.

‘Not even slightly human.’ You said it like you were gonna jump me right there. Well, alright, fangs out, come on. Make my barb soft, it’s sexier that way...

It’s weird, if I’m confident about anything it should be this stuff, I mean I’m as hot as any other succubus but especially with you I can’t lose, but the idea of letting you see my fangs and ears and toes and stuff makes me feel like the new humans look taking off their clothes in the middle of a dungeon for the first time. Even my wings feel all big and awkward and I’ve been proud of them since day one, I mean how many Sade get legit bat wings and are still this cute? So metal. And yet.

And yet. And yet I’ve jumped out a window and rushed a perfekti and done a couple of rituals that probably should have just fried us both and drawn a consecrated sword and almost been in I don’t wanna know how many car crashes and stared down a slutshaming _seraphim_ and now _this_ is scariest moment yet?

Well, yeah. It is. But you’ve changed since then, I know you have, or we wouldn’t have got this far. It’s made my life a living hell this past year, but I’m still glad you didn’t get the chance to be an idiot that night.

Here’s the circle. Now or never. Banzai...

Stand up straight. Back arched. Wings spread. Will you do the heart thing for me again, tail? Good. 

Damn, we must have sat there a while, my hair is almost dry. Is enough of it still in the barrette to pull off a proper sexy-librarian shaking-out? Yes, amazingly. Maybe the thing really is blessed.

Now, smile and bare those fangs...

The light of the Eye is softer than that of the star we came here under, but it’s enough to get a good look.

She’s been naked in all the ways that matter since the ritual, but somehow it’s the removal of the gloves and boots that lends her that final note of stripped vulnerability one usually thinks of as nakedness - is there even a note of shyness in her affect as she stands there, arms akimbo, wings spread, legs just a bit apart, showing herself?

The membrane of her right wing is in tatters from the sandblasting of the breaking car window, but it’s already started knitting back together, and I can see new skin at the edges of the tears, sealing them and filling back in. Her whole right shoulder must have been just as bad, but it’s fine now, regenerated as we made out. She doesn’t favor it as she moves, has it already healed enough not to hurt?

It’s shocking to realize that this is my first really good look at her since we met, the first real moment we haven’t been running or fighting or almost fucking or collapsing into each other.

She’s smaller, or seems it, without the boots - they’re flats, I note, but chunky goth-boot flats that lend her an extra inch or two. Her legs are just as nice below the boots as the perfect thighs I’ve been enjoying all evening, shapely and soft. Like the rest of her body, there’s a sort of liquid power in them, like she’s a wave barely contained by her need, ready to break over me wetly if made to come hard enough.

I’m almost expecting claws or hooves instead of feet, but she just has cute human-looking feet, toenails painted or naturally colored to match the purple-black shading she has anywhere a human would be pink. Seeing me looking, she stretches her toes, revealing webbing like a sea-creature in between them.

There’s no hint of the broken leg now but for some ichor still clinging to her leg, kept from being washed away in our swim by the boot.

Motion gravity-assisted by curves and bare breasts draws my eyes upward, past soft, broad hips and trim waist to watch her shake her hair out of the barrette, putting her whole body into the action almost like a dance move so that her hips sway and breasts bounce with the action, and another of those unbidden thoughts tells me I’ve resolved to have her do that again while straddling me and impaled. At the end of the motion, she turns her head aside, eyes closing, expression submissive, and raises a small, soft hand, nails the same paint or color as her toes, to pull back her silky metallic hair and hook it around her horn, revealing a long, pointed ear more animal than human. The one she turns to me has a circular notch taken out of it halfway up, but it looks like an old wound. Shouldn’t it regenerate, if she can regenerate a broken leg?

Her tail, almost looking like it has a mind of its own, wraps shyly around her body, curving over a hip and settling the barb on her breasts. It’s changed, soft and fleshy instead of the edge of razor-sharp horn or bone she’s had all evening.

Something in the way she looks aside almost expectantly stirs something in a part of myself I don’t know well, and then it passes as she opens her eyes to peek at me and seeing my expression grins a grin with canines lengthened into small, pointed fangs curving over her lower teeth and matched by a bottom set that curve up.

She’s a monster, with fangs and wings and a tail and horns, hopeful and shy and daring me to love her. She’s perfectly, sublimely, absolutely beautiful.

I take a step forward and, lifting her tail from her breasts, take the soft barb in my hands, stroking and exploring it. In this state it’s soft, the skin tender like the protected place where thigh meets cunt. She keeps her head turned aside, but her eyes narrow in pleasure at my touch and when I kiss the tip softly she coos, surprised.

Hot _damn_ but that is sensitive. Is this why everyone always wanted to play with my tail? That’ll teach me to not bother shifting it soft like ever.

So tails _are_ sexual. That’s rather fun.

It’s not that whatever hard-wired map of hotness that exists deep in my animal brain includes tails as such, but the way she coos and gasps as I play with it, lips parting with the pleasure of my stroking fingers clutches at my cock and heart the way that making out or feeling her up does, drawing me onward. It’s exhilarating, being able to stand a few inches apart, drinking in the sight of her naked body, pussy glistening visibly and nipples standing out in the starlight, and yet inflict this kind of pleasure on her as if I had my head between her legs.

Ooh...holy fuck, am I about to cum from having my tail played with? I didn’t know I could do thaaat....

Damn but if the points of my barb don’t react like my clit when they’re soft. Oh please be careful that’s sensitiiiiive!

Even better is watching her struggle with herself to keep the pose she’s struck for me as I play, and trying to imagine what her comment about breathing for fun must mean for how she feels now lends an extra fire to the enjoyment of the sound of her ragged breaths and the way her breasts heave as I tease.

It’s obvious that the points are the sensitive part. How will she react if I _actually_ kiss one?

“Nnnnn...” And also WHOAH. But getting any words that coherent out of my mouth way isn’t going to happen right now.

I’ll give you this: for a monopole, you’re taking to...mmm...eating tail without a lot of drama. Teach me to assume anything about me is just aesthetics.

Oh. Oh my. That night you read the cunnilingus HOWTO, you committed every byte of that thing to memory, didn’t you? I totally thought we were just having a fun wank session! Teach me not to underestimate you when you’re horny.

Yeah, make the little circles, get the rhythm...more...oooh...OHGOD

Her orgasm seems to surprise her as much as it does me, her lips moving with her breath as if she’s trying to say something and then bursting open to let out a surprised moan wreathed with the stringed-instrument harmonics of her voice at its limit. She sways on her feet as she comes, trembling in response to my tongue and hands on her tail, and then falls against me and I let her tail fall from my hands to catch her and she hangs limply in my arms, looking up at me with dazed, happy, kiss-me eyes.

Damn right you’re getting kissed. When our lips meet her mouth is full of nectar I drink hungrily before we can actually start making out, warm and lovely as always, the kiss burning with the fire of Lyra’s drinking me in return. It’s tricky kissing around her fangs and their razor-sharp tips, but somehow in the moment this just adds to the pique of the kiss, bringing the strange inhuman spice of her nature into her mouth where I can trace its curves with the tip of my tongue.

Whoo, that was...different. Not like from my clit, but deeeefinitely not bad. Holy fuck if my pussy isn’t yelling for all the touching it didn’t get while you were busy with my tail, though.

And I see you liked doing _that_. Thank Sade - I’m _still_ starving. I swear it’s like I’ve never really eaten before and now that I have my pussy is making me make up for lost time.

Not that I’m complaining. Mmm...

“Did you just...”

She nods before I can finish the question.

Good girl, more kissing for you.

Mmmm...

Dammit hurry up and fuck me already, I’m going to implode if I don’t feel something inside me soon! At least you’ve got the wits to feel me up real good with those big strong hands of yours. My butt is so tiny in your hand you’ve almost got your fingers in my pussy, maybe if I just twist a little this way...uhuh...

I’ve been thinking it since the sunset started to be seriously impossible, but when my fingers make contact with the slick wetness that’s run down the inside of her thighs the die is cast.

Wait, don’t set me on my feet, I can’t stand up yet...fine, fine, I can stand, I just wanted to be a puddle a little longer.

Think I’m _making_ a puddle, though. What did you do to me?

Oh. Ooh that’s a toy of a different color. Yes, sword goes over your head and gets set outside the circle. Please tell me...YUS. Shorts drop to your feet. Woo!

Odd to think I’ve already sucked it and yet this is a the first decent look - through my own eyes - I get at your cock. Still no sign of that curve you obsess about when you wank. Looks hell of bigger from this angle, too - this is going to be interesting after a couple of weeks, even without nectar you’re kinda hung. 

Today is a good day to be me.

Well, mostly, because now we have a bit of a trick. I don’t want to do this all tender and vanilla, not something this meaningful, and neither do you. Not really.

Oh, you think you do. You’ve had a long, long time to think about this, haven’t you? I would know, I was there. And you’ve thought about how it’ll be, and this...well, this isn’t it. There’s a lot fewer wedding bells here, huh?

Which is good, and bad. Bad because you’re standing there looking at me, trying to square this moment with what you’ve been imagining for years and not making it work. Good, because you’re feeling off the rails enough that maybe with a little finesse I can work with it and seduce you into being yourself. It’s worth a shot, right? Without courage, true love waits, as they say.

Now, you might be thinking from the way things are on Earth that there’d be something hurtful in the way you’ve been lusting over my monster-ness, but around Sade Hall it...doesn’t work that way. Everyone is someone’s fetish fuel. Everyone is someone’s nightmare fuel. It’s only hurtful if that’s _all_ you are to them, or they think you have some kind of sacred duty or to them or some dust because of what you are. Otherwise, just enjoy it, y’know? So despite what you’d think, it’s not all emotionally complex or anything. I just feel pretty. Thank you.

More importantly, we can _so_ work with this. Let’s push you off the cliff.«


	9. Unquenchable

When I reach for her hand to lead us to the ground, she takes mine and places it over her heart, nestled into her cleavage. With the softness of her breasts to distract me, it takes a second for the weirdness to register, and even then I have to shift my hand around a bit to be sure, to make sure I’m not just missing something.

Her breasts heave with her breath, soft and warm around my hand, and her body thrums with life, but:

“You have no heart.”

Fucking hell, if I can’t work with _that_ double meaning, I’m turning in my devil horns and moving to the Garden. “I’m not human. Not built like you. Don’t need anything to pump my ichor around. I do have a heart, it’s not a human heart, but it’s yours.”

Teeter, totter. Long way down, isn’t it?

“I’m a monster, sweetie. I wanna be _your_ monster. Show me who’s boss. You know how.”

It’s like falling.

It’s like flying.

‘I’m a monster. I want to be _your_ monster.’

The pieces slam home, one conclusion leading inevitably to the next with the terrible inexorable finality of a mathematical proof.

Why have I always felt wrong, bad, unlovable? I’ve called this depression, but there’s something deeper, a terrible knowledge with a three-dimensional solidity mere self-loathing lacks.

Why do I want to sleep with a monster? It’s not just that she’s here and offering. Given the choice, I would have sought her out, would have summoned her up at any risk to my soul, had I only known it to be possible.

Why did I cross one moral event horizon after another for this?

Because I’m a monster. I just thought it, just a moment ago, but it’s true in a way I wasn’t ready to admit: no human girl’s going to ever want the love I have to give, not if I’m honest about what I am.

The fantasies, the wishes, the hopes, they’ve been with me as long as I can remember. Tumblr was fun, but it was Extreme Restraints and the Stockroom that kept me up all night when I was fourteen. I’ve read a lot of fic, but it’s that first chapter of the Story of O that’s stuck with me after all these years.

And so this should be the moment, understanding so inescapably what I really am, that I pick up that monster-killing sword we made, and stab myself in heart. There’ve been a lot of dark nights and grey days when I’ve faced this realization in one form or another and I’ve come close, so close to doing something equivalent.

But tonight is special, because my current company is giving me some definitional questions about the idea ‘monster’. Tonight I’ve had some opportunity to meet one up _close_. From far away, the stars look cold, silvery, peaceful, but that’s not what they _are_ , it’s the opposite of what they are. Monsters, things like us, seen from far away, look cold, bestial, twisted, heartless.

But that’s not what it is to _be_ a monster.

Lyra’s not human. She’s not a pretty girl with neat extras, she’s the real deal, an actual demon, inside and out. I’ve _seen_ , I’ve _felt_. She’s a monster and she sought me out in what was compared to this place this heart of hell because she was looking for another monster.

‘Show me who’s boss.’ Like the ritual, like the car, like the terrible moment with the sword.

There is a dark river inside me, deep and black as night, bottomless and terrifying. 

_Let’s go swimming._

It’s a short few inches from her lack of a heart to her neck and remembering her words before the ritual I almost go for that, but a much, much better idea strikes and I seize her wrists, raising them up to eye-level so her arms are bent and there’s maybe a foot or two of space between us, enough that I can have a good look at her nakedness.

“You want to belong to me. That’s what you’re offering.”

Nod nod. “Yeah. Sell you my soul for lust and love and cum.”

“Then, touch yourself for me.”

She tries to move an arm out of my grip to comply, but I hold them fast and she looks at me, lusty but confused.

“You have a tail.”

Ooh. Oh fuck, it’s still all sensitive from cumming before, this is going to be interesting.

One of the worst parts about being a succubus is that masturbation is just seriously underwhelming. Fuckin’ ironic, right? But think about it - I can’t exactly eat my own lust, can I? Oh, it feels good, I’d be a lousy seductress if I couldn’t take _some_ kind of pleasure in my own body, but you end up hungrier, which is to say hornier, than when you started, even if you cum. It gets...frustrating. You get the worst cramps after six or seven watches, and there’s no energy in my own touch the way there is in yours.

Unless, of course, you’re close or touching me, watching, and getting off on me getting myself off.

Which I, because I am some kind of epic moron, never let any of the nice humans back home who’d ogle me every time I left my little hole of a room do - lovesick Hollow Hearts always do have a tough time eating but damn if I didn’t work out some misplaced masochism there - and am thus not really used to.

So when I bring my tail up between my legs and run the soft barb over my lips, eyes fixed on your beautiful deep blue ones, I about fall on my ass the feeling and energy hit me so hard. You may as well be fucking me it’s so intense...ooh...

She quails, apparently surprised at her own pleasure, letting out a long, low, harmonic moan, some of her weight setting into my hands as her legs fail her, and her eyes narrow and start to close in surprised pleasure.

“Make sure your clit gets lots of attention now. Especially from those nice sensitive points.”

Oh my _god_ , points against clit it’s like they multiply or something. This is like...like...ooh...I’m going to cum _again_ and this time my clit’s not going to be left out...

“No orgasming, now. Be a very good girl for me and I’ll let you come.”

Her closing eyes widen, and her tail stops moving.

“No stopping either, come on.”

NO! FUCK! God dammit yes I’m Hench yes not being allowed to cum makes me hot but I can still be fucking frustrated by it now, can’t I. Sort of the point but ARGH!

“I’m...try...I’m trying...Sir...”

God, I can barely talk already. Almost feels like I’ve got enough shapeshifting to do the melt-into-a-puddle thing for reals after all.

“Look at me while you play with yourself.” Her eyes fix on mine, hazy with lust and desperation.

Now we’re getting somewhere. She’s starting to tremble with the frustration, body swaying in my grip, taking gasping ragged breaths that go in and out of being voiced in her musical harmonics, too far gone to notice what her voice is doing.

“Good. Now get your barb good and wet and give me a drink.”

Oh no no no eeeeeep I think I’ll explode if you go down on my tail again. At least I can let up on my poor clit a little. Aren’t I supposed to have some kind of upper limit on how horny I can get?

Nnnn...okay so putting the tip inside myself is just as hot, dammit. Get some nectar, now get some off my outer lips...ooohkay, can I even get this to your mouth right now with how drunk your energy is making me? Soo-oh _dark_ , yum...

EEP okay yeah that’d be your tongue guess I made it unfff...

Her nectar is hot and even more intense than before, almost as if I can literally taste her need, thick and intoxicating. It’s all I can do not to throw her to the ground and fuck her right away as she twists and turns the barb to present all of the slickness she’s loaded onto it.

Ohmigod, ohmigod, I guess there’s no cooldown time on tailgasms fucking fuck will not cum ohmigod going to explode seriously eep.

Eventually the headiness of nectar is gone and there’s just the vague sweet-and-floral taste of her skin, so I break contact.

“Good girl.”

Edge of a smile, all but lost in horniness.

“So now that you’re good and desperate, I’m going to take you niiiice and slowly.”

What? No! Rough and hard, rough and hard, isn’t that where this is headed?

“Pl...p...please...fuck me hard...”

Later I’ll look back at all this and understand what I’m doing now, all the lonely nights built up on one another, all the longing, wishing for someone in my bed with me, all the long years of desperation built up and weighing on this moment, the inevitable emotional necessity of making her desperate for me the way I’ve been desperate for her these many years before we can fuck, the need to see her need break her the way mine’s broken me so many times, but right now all I know is that I need this like I’m dying of thirst and have never tasted water until now.

“Beg me really good, and I’ll think about it.”

She takes a deep breath, steadying herself, then fixes me with a desperate, pleading expression.

God stopping touching myself is even more frustrating than doing it and not being able to cum. Must...sell this...

“Please, please, Sir, fuck me really hard. Pound me. Please. I need it so much.”

She sounds like she’s about to come, or cry, or both. Something that was before the events of tonight the main part of me recoils, horrified that this is what I wanted, but it _is_ what I wanted and it thrills me to the core.

“Down. Hands and knees.”

Eeep I’m going oh okay you’re just having fun pushing me down. That’s yummy.

Sade’s clits you’re _scary_. If there was ever a doubt I’m Hench it’s gone now, the way this is turning me on.

Okay I’m on my knees but I can’t get on hands _and_ knees if you’re holding my wrists wait eep gonna fall over oof! Yeah, I’ll be on hands and knees if you pull me over like that. Thank you for letting my wrists go in time to catch myself...oh hell yes hair grabbing.

Head down to the ground, tail up, of course. Wait, you’re behind me getting ready to fuck me, and you can reach to hold me down by my hair this easily? I knew you were big, but eeep.

Oh god, how tight am I wound right now that your hand running down my side is almost making me cum? I think you like my curves, oooh.

Do it. Please do it. Please do it...

“Now, are you going to be a good girl for me? Be mine and do as I say?”

Nod nod nod nod I’ll eat my own tail if you’ll just give me some cock.

Oh god damn I can’t move my head to nod because you’re holding it down. Can I even form words anymore? I’m gonna drool all over the raft with how much nectar my mouth is making. Swallow some, that helps, but now I have to get it together enough to form words...

“Y...es...Sir...g...” Got to swallow _again_ , jeez. “Be a. good. girl.”

“Good.”

Being on her knees, bent to the ground like this, spreads her pussy open and reveals a tight little asshole, just slightly colored with her purple-black tinge. I’ve never really considered myself much into butts but in the moment it’s tempting, and would be more so if it weren’t right next to her dripping cunt.

She obediently stays put when I release her hair, her head on its side on the stone of the raft, arms splayed out in front of her as if in worship of something, fingers spread and vainly gripping at the smooth stone as if she feels some need to hold on. Even her eyes stay lowered, intimidated, being a good girl.

I want to touch everything, grow a thousand hands and run them over every curve, grab her by the hips while I run my fingers through the folds of her desperate, dripping pussy, trace the lines of her wings, probe the adorable belly-button that heaves with her breath, just above the ground. Is this what tentacle porn is actually about? I could make use of a few hundred tentacles at the moment.

I could just seize her by the hips and plunge in - it’s what we both want me to do - but I want this moment to be special and momentous. I’m just universes away from what I thought those words would mean when the time came.

Into the dark river, dive deep.

I sadly have only the two hands, but it’s okay because if I touch the glistening wetness between her thighs I’ll either plunge my fingers into her or take a drink of nectar or both and I think either one will make me come instantly so instead I just settle one hand on the crease where her thigh meets her hip and use the other to trace down her spine from between her wings where they sprout from her back to the base of her tail, and she shudders in pleasure at the attention.

“Oooh...” Oh tail, base of my tail loves you...

“Now, look at me and hold still.”

Nod nod.

You make it sound so tender and kind as you torture me. 

Looking. I wish I could get both eyes on you, you look so pretty leaning over me with the stars behind you and the light of the eye making your eyes shine. Want you so much. Want to make you feel good. Happy with me.

“Nnnnn...” That’s a cock against my lips, no question...gotta hold still, gotta hold still, gotta hold still...oh god the energy the difference between this and kissing is like the difference between kissing and touching so much energy...what’s going to happen when you finally fuck me...

...gotta hold still...

So warm, so wet, so soft. It takes everything I have not to dive right in, especially the way she moans when I make contact, but I’ve promised myself for years that when this moment finally comes I’m going savor every Planck length and I’m going to. 

She’s looking at me, breathing shallowly, eyes wide and pleading, lip bitten with the concentration of holding still. It’s beautiful, more beautiful to me than the lights of heaven that surround us.

“I love you.”

hold.

still.

“love...”

She has the most perfect ass in all the history of all the universes, and I caress it, bringing my hands from her waist down the milky-soft outside of her hips and over the roundness of her butt to run my thumbs along the flesh so slick and soft it feels like half-solid nectar of her outer lips either side of my cock and she sways in my grip, moaning, fighting with herself not to move onto me but desperate for the touch. Her eyes try to close with pleasure and she fights them open again, gaze fixed on me.

hold...ohmigod...still...

My left hand roams, right one steadying her hips. Her pussy, her thighs, her mound, nearly her whole lower half is wet and slick with running nectar, a glorious, sexy mess. At length, I reach around the tip of my cock where it rests against her inner lips to find her clit almost buried in the meeting point of her engorged outer and inner lips, standing as tall as it can, and stroke it, gentle.

I will not come yet. I will not. Dimly I realize I’ve clenched off the flow of energy she’s pulling from me as a part of controlling myself, the way that one’s pinky and ring fingers move together as a fact of biomechanics. No matter, she’ll get everything I’m holding back and more shortly...

Oh god oh no oooooh oh please no I can’t handle that...

I need to cum and I need to be fucked and I need _you_ and it just gets more and more and I need energy but I just need you more...how can...

NO! Nooo don’t take away the energy! Let me drink! FUCK! No no no ow please! Need...

I...I’m Hollow Heart. Bottomless. There’s not going to _be_ a limit on how bad I need you.

Falling...

Please, you’re going to break me and I can’t talk anymore...I...

At the touch her mouth opens in a silent scream of pleasure, but her eyes blink and screw shut, pleasure and desperation and fear and frustration colliding on her face, her body trembling. A black tear rolls out of her eye to drop on the raft, dark lost in dark.

There’s a moment of some electric anticipation, a tension in her body, like the brink I saw before she came while I played with her tail, but darker, more...monstrous. I think involuntarily of the soft warm sting of my hand smacking her ass that once way back in limbo, the blow that broke me open, and I understand: now it’s her turn.

_not a human heart_

_I wanna be_ your _monster. Show me who’s boss._

I don’t understand how, but I can feel it: to her, this is love. And it is love, because it’s not with hate or anger or even indifference that I raise my hand for the second time in my life to hit someone, but simple lust, the desire to feel the impact of her soft ass in my palm, to see her face break with surrender as I know it will when my hand connects.

I am a monster. Terrible things look beautiful to me. At the bottom of that dark river, in the heart of darkness?

dear Sade come on do it make me feel something make it _hurt_ make me _feel_ knock me off the edge

_Whack._

UNH

The sun. All suns. A star brighter than the birth of a universe.

_Whack._

NN oh god...yours...see, yours, take...

Peace, the peace of being loved without reservation, even to this extreme: she yelps in pain, but doesn’t shy from the blows or cower away, doesn’t close off the way you’d expect someone struck to do. She’s still craving my touch, even if it’s this. _Especially_ if it’s this. The thought hangs before me, inexplicable but true.

I’ve always had a thing with vampire stories, doesn’t matter if it’s Buffy or True Blood, I’m fascinated, but in this moment it shatters, dissipating like a broken perfekti, as I understand: that monsters never see the day, that core of the vampire myth, is a lie. Together we have a light of our own, a brilliance inside that casts shadows on the surface of the sun.

...what’s yours, fuck me, M—

_Whack._

OHGOD what a rush c’mon make me _feel_!

There’s a shock like a static discharge in each blow, sexual energy of some kind other than that I’m holding back in service of not coming released all in a burst, hammered into her.

It’s been drilled into me for a lifetime: monsters live in darkness, and it’s a lie, because here is the light I’ve been taught can be found only in the emulation of some shining unattainable perfect ideal of humanity. Here is the light I’ve been warned and warned and warned can never possibly be found this way.

What is the speed of sound through a belief system? It doesn’t matter. This is the speed of light through a belief system.

_Whack_

“ _Now_ you’re a good girl.”

...yours...

She breaks into proper, desperate sobs at this last impact, but only for a moment.

“Oooooooooooooooooooh...”

So hard. So slow. Makes it feel like...you’ll never end going into me. So big and long, so full...oh...that’s...

“UNH!”

Deep. So deep. _Just_ too long. Just hurts, just a little, you’re just a little too much for me.

Heaven.

Now fucking fuck me already.

It’s like diving into a cool lake, it’s like slipping into a warm bath, it’s like everything I’ve hoped for and it’s like nothing I could ever imagine.

I have to grit my teeth not to come at the sound of her yelp of pleasure when her hips make contact with mine, but I manage, holding still deep inside her, drinking in the feeling of it, running my hands over her back and waist and hips, gathering myself, her pussy gripping at me powerfully as I caress her.

One hand, enjoying the curve of her hip, and the other...

I’m so delicate...wings are tough but somehow your hand all strong around the base of my good one makes me feel so small...

The angle’s a little awkward with the way her wing sprouts from her shoulder, but she spreads it when I take hold, making the front edge perpendicular to her spine and giving me a good grip.

Her hip is amazing - the little crease between thigh and flank has always been my favorite part of a girl after the obvious ones, and my fingers curl around her side to nestle there now - but if I’m going to come this far with a girl who’s got a tail, there’s only one place for my hand to go. It curls around my arm when I take hold of the base, soft barb dangerously (for her, in this state) in reach of my mouth.

Well just in case I was going somewhere before I’m sure not now. Man, tail pulling’s even better than hair pulling!

Oooh ohmigod oh...how can you move so much inside me just by grinding us together? Oh, and your hips are getting all slippery from the mess I’ve made, damn...

I am still going to seriously die if I don’t get to cum soon.

...so hard...wheee!

The image fixes in my mind’s eye as we grind, and I have to try it. She’s really agile and half the density she should be, this will work, right?

Slowly, I bring the hand that’s got hold of her wing up to her head to take her by the horn instead, and then releasing her tail and placing that hand between her breasts, gingerly avoiding her injured wing, I pull her up, drawing her body against mine, back arched, her head resting against my shoulder. An arc of nectar draws itself out viscously between her mouth and the raft as she rises, leaving her lips and cheek glistening, and I reach down to kiss it away, surprised to receive a big mouthful of sweet-and-flowery lust when our lips meet. I drink it, heart pounding, cock throbbing inside her (or is it her? Can your pussy throb if you don’t have a heartbeat?).

Changed geometry pulls me largely out of her, leaving barely an inch of penetration, and the angle works hard to bend my rock-hard cock, but it’s made up for by the feeling of the slick roundness of her butt on either side of my shaft.

She follows me when I break the kiss to talk, clearly hoping for more tongue, but I hold her head in place. “I’m going to make you come like this, and when you do, I’m going to drop you back on your hands so I can pound your brains out. Understand?”

Nod nod nod nod nod hell yes I understand.

I’m already going for her clit when she assents. I’d figured she’d get this one.

As I start to circle my fingers around it, making no effort to keep the rest of my hand away from her lips, taking a moment to trace them where they encircle me: “Oh, but one thing. Once your body’s ready to come, you have to ask permission.”

What? Dammit! No! I can’t talk like this! Fuck fuck fuuuuu...oh god okay okay....

Just a little...little...more...yeah...nnn...

“Plea...nn...pl...”

God, drooling all over myself. I hope you like nectar as much as every other human or you’re going to think this is totally gross.

“...please may...I...cum...”

Nnnnn...no fair delaying, I asked! Oh you’re _not_. Argh... “...S...ir?”

“Yes.”

There’s a second or two of letting-go and then she explodes, letting out a scream like an entire string orchestra breaking itself in throes of passion, the sound of it setting my ears ringing and echoing off the water around us and for a moment I’m supporting her as she goes limp, back arching, hands that’ve been fondling her own breasts going slack, wings working futilely against my encircling arms to spread, tail wound crushingly tight around my thigh, and then she masters herself enough to put her knees back under her and I’m throwing her forward onto her hands so that I can get some pounding in before her throbbing, pulling, massaging pussy or the flow of nectar that runs from it make me come and pound I do, hammering at her with a desperate rhythm as I slide frictionlessly in and out of her - she’s so wet it actually helps me last longer, keeping the feeling from being too intense, but even so I manage only tens of seconds before I can feel the cum pumping up my shaft, blazing hot even in her warmth and I then I’m exploding with her, a roar that marks the first time I’ve ever voiced an orgasm.

For a moment, everything is gone, obliterated by the pleasure and the supernova of energy she draws out of me as I come, and then this new universe comes back into focus enough that I realize she’s still coming, coming with me as I pound, and then I’m together enough to seize her tail and waist and pull us together roughly, holding myself deep inside her as she wrings the last of the cum out of me, moaning her pleasure at the depth or the hotness of my cum or my iron grip at her side or all three and after a moment we’re both just gasping, shuddering with aftershocks.

I’m about to withdraw and collapse when I realize that her stars are glittering, shiny in the light of the Eye, and as I pause to take in the view, her tattered wing begins to knit itself back together before my eyes, holes closing, gashes vanishing, hanging strips of membrane pulled back into place by new skin, until it’s left whole and perfect. She shudders at the sudden healing, cooing, and then we separate - carefully, both sensitive and yelping at the feeling of my cock pulling past her tight lips - and fall to the raft, panting, cradling each other, spooning.

It’s made of a stone that’s as hard as diamond, but for this one perfect moment this is the most comfortable place in all universes.

“I love you, Lyra.”

“I love you too, Master.”«


	10. Wham Line

Wait, whoah. 

Well, feels right, I guess we really did...

Sigh. Feels so good.

Questions and worries are quiet here still, but one manages by long ugly training to fight through the beauty.

“Lyra?”

“M—” Ghk. Jeez, came so hard I forgot to breath in again after I sighed. Yum.

“Mmmm?”

“Are we going to regret not using protection? I think I put about a gallon of come in you.” Being so vulgar is still new, but it feels _good_.

Giggle. “Humans are breakfast, not baby-daddy. Don’t worry.”

A certain set of expectations and assumptions about my future detonates, anticlimactically winking out like the screen of a computer dropped into the ocean, sublimating out of existence like an ice sculpture on the surface of the sun...no. Like a snowball in hell. Heh.

What was I thinking? After all the adventures ended we were going to have a white picket fence and 2.5 half-breed human-demon kids?

I guess no kids ever ought to be kind of a thing or something, but all I can do is laugh internally and feel a little bit relieved. If I ever wanted that life, I don’t now.

I want... “You called me master.”

Mmm! What are you up to now, tail? Oh, yes, let’s wrap you around Master’s thigh. I love how I can barely wrap you twice. So big and strong. 

“I hope that’s not too forward.”

The tip of her tail pushing at the back of my leg startles me, but I manage not to jump and figure out quickly what she’s trying to do. Monster love. Terrible and cute.

Heaven.

_Is_ calling me ‘master’ forward? Where do you fit an Alcubierre warp drive into your catalog of bicycle parts?

And yet, somehow, unreasonably, it feels right.

My response is a surprise to me as much as anyone: “Not if you mean it.”

“I do. If I wasn’t yours before what we just did I sure as hell am now.”

Should I explain what just happened, if you don’t ask? Would that be better or worse? Fuck.

And she’s right. This was a huge decision, but it’s _already made_. I don’t even know exactly when I decided, I just know that it’d be ridiculous to take it back or pretend to be unsure or need to consider things. This is what I want. If this is a bad idea, it’s worth it to me finding out the hard way.

She moves in my grip, tail coiling tighter on my thigh, bending an arm around to clasp mine where it encircles her.

Mine. The thought thrills, fills me with a bottomless peace. I’m a monster, but I’m happy in a way I’ve never understood to be possible.

As if in an attempt to distract me from my existential drama, my stomach growls melodramatically and the hardness of the stone makes itself known.

“I’m hungry.”

“I’m yours. Just take.”

You did it. You really did it. I didn’t think you’d have the guts the first time, but you carried it off, you even managed to hit me for real.

No more limbo. No more dodging perfekti. No more searching. No more miasma. No starving and no more wondering if I’m going to manage to eat and then watching Cheryl get all sad and hurt when I can’t even get her down. No more concerned strangers who think they have the slightest idea what it is to be Hollow Heart. No more dodging the blades and knives you’d throw down your subconscious when you were depressed, no more fighting to get you to take care of us both, no more wondering what the fuck I am.

Just you, always there. Yours. I’m in heaven. 

She twists around in my arms, tail un-twining to let her face me, and I kiss her, drinking the nectar out of her mouth. It takes the edge from my hunger and soreness, enough that I can manage curiosity.

Even in this small act, Lyra’s reciprocal need and hunger as she pulls energy from me - maybe healing her own sore muscles? - tugs at my heartstrings. To be needed this way, by this soft, vulnerable creature, is heaven, as surely as is the view above us.

Her happiness to please me as she relaxes in my arms when I finish drinking is almost a physical force, for all I know could literally _be_ a physical force, some side-effect of how succubi work...

I need to understand.

“Lyra.”

Every interaction now feels like a diverging road between what I believe about love and Lyra’s reality. I’m sated, happy, grateful, and I should respond to that with the soft, reverent indulgence of a lover, and yet instead that feels like a lie, picked out against the truth in monochromatic relief and looming shadows by the warm purple light of the star in my arms.

She’s mine. I can be sweet, I can be kind, but for us love is the uncomplicated presumption of ownership. Anything else, coming from me, is just going to be play-acting.

“Yes, Master?”

Man, the word feels so weird, like it’s changing how I talk or something. But I can’t stop saying it! The fuck? Well, fuck it, feels weird, feels good. I wouldn’t be much of a Sade if I was gonna be put off by ‘what the fuck this shouldn’t feel good’.

“I’m...this isn’t really what a human girl would want. Not that I mind, I don’t think I actually ever wanted a human girl, but...what’s it _like_ for you? What do you _get_ out of this? I know why _I_ want this, but why do you?”

Eh? Not what a human girl...ooooh. Heh. Lordy, aren’t you in for some surprises. Not now, though, one thing at a time. Easier to show than tell, anyway.

“This is what I am, this is what I’m made for. It feels good and the way you feel when I call you Master and do what you say is so...unf.”

Ask an impossible question, get an impossible answer.

“I taste better when I’m kinky.”

Nod nod nod.

“Uhuh.”

“I’ve read about this stuff. We’re supposed to negotiate and...”

“I’m yours and you can do whatever you want with me. There, done.”

Omigod that face. Hah.

Understanding blossoms, just in time to save me making an ass of myself.

“This...this is why you’ve been watching me or possessing me or whatever. You were figuring out if you could be happy as my...being mine. If I could give you what you need. If you’d be able to make me happy without being miserable. You said you looked all over Earth trying to find me, this is why. To figure out if you could say that to me and be okay. Yes?”

What’s the word I’m avoiding? Property? Slave? Pet? ‘Submissive’ doesn’t seem to really cover the height of the cliff we’ve just jumped off, but none of the other ones that always show up in slashfic or BDSM FAQs really seem to fit, either.

Nod nod. “Yeah. I _need_ to be owned, I need it like I need lust, but if you’re gonna spend eternity as somebody’s love slave, you need to be sure about them and you’d better like what they’re into. I’m sure about you. I know who you are. I’ve spent a while finding out.”

Okay so actually it’s even better than that, but one thing at a time.

“So this is just...how you work. This is what makes you happy.”

“Yeah. And I...I can’t have any questions. This gets rid of the questions for good.”

“Questions?”

Dammit, I was so going to get out of talking about this part, too, but no, I have to be a stupid Hollow Heart and blurt out ‘love me love me’ at every opportunity. Well, Banzai. Naked for my Master.

“I can’t wonder if you want me near or not, I can’t wonder if you like how we’re fucking, I can’t wonder if you’re happy. I can’t wonder if I please you. I can’t wonder if I’m overwhelming or not enough. I need to just know. If I’m chained up and following orders, I know. If I have to sit at your feet for watches and watches wishing you’d fuck me I know I’m not too much, and if I can’t turn your touch away I know I’m not too little. This makes it safe enough. To love as hard as I love.”

Something clicks, a subtlety of our interactions through the night I might not have otherwise noticed, and I lift Lyra’s chin from where she’s settled it against my chest as we talk and make as if to kiss her.

Aw, yes Master...no? Nf, don’t lick your lips and open your mouth like that if you’re not gonna kiss me. C’mon, please?

Yus, ki...nf. Hehe, teasing Master. C’mon, kiss me.

She reaches for the kiss, hopeful, but stops short when I don’t take it. I tease once more, and she makes herself ready, once more, but still doesn’t leap for the kiss when I pull it back, and then I actually make contact and she’s soft and wet with nectar when I do and slowly uncoils as we kiss long and deep, at first just yielding with a coo to my tongue licking her lips and reaching inside her, and then gaining aggression as I present myself to it, sucking my tongue, shifting her mouth to pull my lips between hers and do something that seems to focus the flow of lust between us through that one point and thereby draw a moan out of me that neither of us expects but she clearly enjoys—

Oh baby, oh _Master_ , you liiiiike this, don’t you? C’mon, more...boo.

It’s tempting to go on making out for hours, but I have to know if I’m right.

“You haven’t broken a kiss since we met. You haven’t started one. Even when I was about to die...”

“Well, that first time in your room, and when you were dying like that, those were about consent, but yeah. It’s not mine to start. It’s not mine to take away.”

Unf that was fun. I don’t think I could sound any more turned on if I wanted, that had better drive this home.

“I know sometimes I can get kind of opinionated when things start wrapping my cunt, but this is what really makes me happy, Master. This is what I wanna be.”

“Alright, that’s what we’re doing, then. I’m not going to pretend it isn’t what I want. I don’t like questions either, at least not that kind. You’re mine, you’re not going anywhere, you do what I say. No questions.”

Oh my fuck, you really are Hollow Heart too! I was sure, so sure, you’d just be Overlord maybe with a side of Dres because of all the computer stuff. I was so sure all that hearts-and-flowers-and-forever stuff in your head was just window dressing you thought you were supposed to be into because your religion told you to, but no, you really are, just like me. The seed-ghost made me this way for a reason.

“Good. Master.”

Tie me to you, so tight.

“And I promise to try and deserve all the trust you’re putting in me. To take good care of you and everything.”

“Nobody on this raft deserves anything, and we’re both gonna be spiked if we start thinking that way. This is about what we both need.”

“But thank you. Trust means a lot downstairs, like I said.”

Questions and questions and questions, there’s so much to learn, but one of the less interesting ones haunts me, brought to the fore by her romantic phrasing before.

“Um...eternity...”

Being stuck with her for the rest of my life? Yes, please. Growing old together? Hell yes.

Except, except, there’s the rub.

“Lyra, what do we do when we’re all old and nasty and too creaky for sex? Like, I’m assuming you don’t really ever get to be done with sex anymore than I’m going to get to be done with eating. Right?”

Wait, for real? Have you still not figured it out?

Well, good. I did want to know if you’d keep me not knowing about the perks, I think now I do.

Viktor made me promise not to spell this out for you. He said letting you do the math yourself would be one of the greatest pleasures I could ever give you. Still not sure I believe him, but it’s worth finding out, right?

Anyway, in your defense, you’ve had some stuff on your mind. Let’s drop a hint or two.

“You actually _can_ be done with eating now if you want, nectar really will keep you going just fine.”

“I know, but, you know what I mean.”

“I know. Just...please take when you need it. I don’t want anyone thinking I don’t take care of my Master.”

Changing the subject. Not a good sign. I knew there would be some horrible catch hiding in all of this.

“Huh?”

For some reason, she takes my sword-hand, the one I shredded so badly falling before, caressing the still nectar-slick knuckles and then kissing them tenderly, and then, with surprise on her face, almost hungrily, licking them clean before she seems to realize what she’s up to.

Whoah yum that’s...aw balls, I have sweat-reactive nectar after all, huh. I just hadn’t found the right human. Fuck, has this been affecting me all night? I bet so, I bet I just couldn’t taste it over the blood before. Fuck dammit seed-ghost, are you going to leave me any dignity at all?

Anyway. Bigger cocks to fuck...dammit, self.

Master’s cock’s going to be _covered_ in this _and_ I bet I didn’t swallow up _all_ the cum with how hard you were pounding before. Fucking fuck, I _will_ stay on task. Master asked a question and the answer is going to be super fun.

“How’s this doing? It was pretty messed up-looking before. I um, might’ve kinda zoned out in Human Anatomy being as I’m not much of a top, but isn’t it pretty bad when you can see your bones?”

My hand is fine, completely healed from the combination of touching her nectar-covered form during sex before and, presumably, all the nectar I’ve been drinking. It feels fine, honestly it feels better than it has for years, with a suppleness in the wrist I didn’t even know was missing. Have I had carpal all this time and not noticed? I’m young, but I’ve spent a lifetime on the keyboard, maybe I actually managed to prematurely wear out...

Wait.

No.

Impossible.

Not possible.

That’s too much. That’s too much to ask for.

Even here, even among all these wonders. Too much.

Things like me, there’s no place for us in heaven. Is this what we get instead?

Dear Sade I would’ve gone through this whole ridiculous joke of a life I’ve had just to see that expression on your fa....WHEE hehe ow careful Master this is a stone raft!

Come on, fuck me again, you know you want to!

Oh helllll yeah, force me open...

I’ve jumped her and have her on her back on the raft, spread eagled, wrists in my hands and legs forced apart by my hips between them, but I’m not going for sex.

“What does nectar do. Exactly. In extreme technical detail to the best of your knowledge. Answer.”

My face is an inch from her’s, eye-to-eye. I can actually _feel_ the fire in my eyes.

Fucking hell this is what they actually mean by a dom’s eyes boring into you I didn’t get it before now I get it eep.

Alright, manage to think, self. Yes, probably getting fucked shortly, but not if you don’t follow this order.

Deep breath. Remember how Viktor put it. Okay.

“You’re a body with a soul, right? Like, take away the body, no soul either, usually. Mess up your brain and there’s no more you, mess up your soul and you can put it back together as long as you’ve got a brain.”

Okay okay eep I’ll go on without confirming please don’t actually drill a hole in me with those eyes yikes.

“So I’m a soul with a body. Kinda the main succubus superpower, we’re the only embodied demons. Mess up my body, it’ll grow back as long as I’ve got enough energy, mess up my soul, no more me. Remember my leg? Nectar is the thing my soul does to give itself a body...well, technically ichor is. Nectar’s just distilled ichor.”

Viktor had this really clever-sounding way to put it...right.

“But it’s not _my_ soul in particular. Nectar just makes a body reflect a soul. It like, turns you into yourself. Being all busted up isn’t _you_ , so it heals you, makes you not be hungry, stuff like that. When you fell before you broke your nails but when I licked your hands it fixed ‘em because you know sharp nails and pussies don’t get along, and getting along with cunt is definitely you. It like...turns things around for you so your body reflects your soul. That’s why your face got smooth, too, it got rid of your stubble in case you wanna like go down on me cuz that would hurt otherwise. You get the idea.”

Just for a moment, just one single plack-time, everything stops, all the universe goes quiet, the lights of heaven go out and I can’t feel Lyra’s softness against me or smell her lust.

It makes a body reflect a soul.

_Souls are immortal._

Something hurts, and I realize I’m biting my finger, having at some point brought my hand to my mouth. I let go, taking Lyra’s cheek in my palm instead.

C’mon, lemme suck a finger, they feel so tasty...aw.

There’s no rational response to this.

There’s no _irrational_ response to this.

Well. There’s one, and it’s awesomely both.

“Stay put. Keep your arms above your head.”

Wouldn’t wanna try to be something I’m not and fuck like a human, now.

Nod nod.

You just figured out what nectar actually does, please tell me you’re about to...yup. Hell yeah, down you go. Unh...yeah so dragging your _whole fucking body_ over my cunt is a good move, hope I was supposed aaaarch into it like this.

It’s my first real look at her pussy, I should take the time to explore and get to know, take the time to find out in detail what succubus pussy is even _like_ , but I’m on a mission. Likewise, I’ve read no shortage of stuff on how to go down on a girl and know what I _should_ be doing, but right this moment there are more important things to do, like drink long and deep from the fucking _fountain of youth_.

She’s already slick, whether from being thrown around or just residually from before, and her flowery musky smell makes me almost light-headed this close.

One thing does occur, before I dive into her. “Does anything bad happen if I drink too much?”

“Nope. Well. It makes you horny, but you figured that out already and that’s not _bad_.”

“Man, whatever shall I do about _that_?”

It’s as intoxicating as before, and her lips are softer even than her hand, warm and wet and almost kissing back I fancy as suck and lick at them, licking out every drop of nectar I can find, my eyes closing involuntarily with the pleasure when I swallow and the wave of lust and strength goes through me.

Oooh you are _thorough_. Do I really taste...ooh...this good? I guess I must, it’s like you’re trying...OHGOD yes that’s my clit okay cumming in...mrf! Don’t go away!

Like a relativistic planet killer. Like the speed of light through a belief system. Christians aren’t supposed to care about living forever, we’re supposed to already have the best immortality plan ever, but the fact is I’ve always been so terrified of death I can’t sleep at night. Heaven, so what? The ugly truth is even CS Lewis and JRR Tolkien never managed to come up with a heaven I’d bother going to, to say nothing of the pathetic pleasure-wireheading visions you hear everywhere else. Even in a boring heaven there’s supposed to be God, but, well, that’s a can of worms not fit for even the kinkiest bedroom.

It’s the last signpost on the road to hell: seeking immortality. Except, once again the sign is all messed up. I’m not _seeking_ it, it’s right here between my lover’s legs, unexpected and welcome. I don’t have to kill anyone or do anything more terrible than go down on someone who loves me. It should be wrong to prefer this to heaven, but this _is_ heaven.

“I won’t age. Will I? Will you?”

There’s maddeningly little nectar, even in the deep folds between her inner and outer lips. It’d be plenty, even superhumanly much, for sex, but I’m _thirsty_.

“You’ll...mmm...you’ll turn into whatever age your soul is. But you’ll UNH!” Fu-huck you have a big tongue how does it get so far inside me like that oooh... “You’ll, mm, always be tasty and fuckable, every human’s kind of a sex fieeeend deep down.”

Trying to eat me up like you need me to survive, like I’m...oh damn. Is this how it feels being fed on by a succubus? That’s...I...aw...okay I love you too I’ll be sure to eat well every time Master.

More, I want _more_. I’ve licked her bare, and she’s making more, but I want the way she flowed while we were having sex.

Oh. That’s easy enough. Let’s make all those cunnilingus howtos actually _mean_ something.

“Not ever. No dying, either.”

“Not ever. Live forever, just like a DEMON OH MY GOD.”

Fucking hell it’s hard to talk with your clit being sucked on all of a sudden oh fuck okay it was good on my tail this works for my clit too yeah UGH QUIT STOPPING.

“It gets rid of disease, too.”

“It...mmmmm....right. Y. Yes. Being sick, isn’t...mm...you. Oooh...boo!”

“In case you’re wondering, yes, you always need permission to come. Begging will possibly help and will definitely turn me on.”

Before, pulling her up. Her pussy isn’t the only thing that makes more nectar when she’s horny. Plus, optional breathing. The most wicked thought hits me.

“And no swallowing. All that nectar in your mouth is _mine_.”

Aw FUCK yeah probably should have seen that coming. Fuck _fuck_ of cooourse ohgod you wait until you’ve denied me to start in on the good stuff...

Fuck how am I going to manage to talk to ask permission with my mouth full of nectar? Fuck, you’ve totally thought of that haven’t you, fuck fuck fuck...

There’s too much pussy in my face to think of any more questions, so I set about properly making her horny, trying different things on her clit and lips with my tongue (assuming myself to have already made the ‘I want your cunt’ point pretty thoroughly), circling or sucking or stroking or pinching carefully with my lips. Maybe it’s knowing what the nectar’s doing to me, maybe it’s just over-the-top succubus lust, but trying to open my eyes to watch her reactions is actually too much to deal with and they keep closing on their own so I can focus on her slick, warm, unimaginably soft flesh in my mouth, so I can breathe in her ultraviolet-hot scent. All I can do is listen to her, but fortunately she’s got a literally superhumanly expressive voice and it makes this almost literally like playing her like some kind of musical instrument.

Boo! OMFG QUIT STOPPING HOLY CRAP

Oh, one important question.

“Last question. Can you come from sex missionary style, that you know of?”

See, I’m not _totally_ clueless.

Nod nod nod.

Missionary, cowgirl, scissoring, grinding, bouncing my leg too much...how did Viktor put it? “You haff a zertain advantageous geometry.”

Wait, fuck, are you going to make me wait all the way through...aw FUCK. Dammit why does that have to turn me on more.

Hands above head, keep ‘em there, no matter how awesome it’d feel...oooh...to play with my breasts, keep hands above head...bondage always makes me feel so sensitive, but this just makes me wanna be touched...yes you too tail, don’t be naughty...

Well, there’s one thing that’s getting touched, let’s focus on that.

I wonder if I actually _could_ play her this way? It’d take centuries of practice to get right...

_I guess we’ll find out_.

Finally! I can take an actual drink from her now, a small one I have to pull from the musky depth of her cunt with my tongue, but distinctly a drink and not just licking wetness off her. It’s like drinking healing fire, burning through me, enlivening my arms even before it’s down my throat, and I understand: what’s happening to me right now, this is why Lyra doesn’t need a heart. This stuff doesn’t really _quite_ obey physics, doesn’t care about digestion or diffusion rates or anything like that.

It’s just...turning me into myself. But what _am_ I? I’ve never _felt_ human, not really. There’s a question there, but it’s lost in supernatural lust and the taste of monster-girl cunt.

By the way, just in case anyone’s confused, hell yes what a feast this is. Never felt so alive omigod I just neeeeeed to cuuuuuuum wait seriously already? Noo! Where’s my slow? Usually I take forever! I thought I take forever oh fuck need to cum...

I probably should have...

Oh fuck oooh tongue inside me why don’t I get used to the feeling?

...have realized you’d be into teasing when I figured out hunger...fuuuuuck...and needing to get off weren’t the same need for me, even most Sade aren’t that way. Fucking hell, I think I’d cry again if I didn’t know how hard I’m gonna cum when you finally let me.

Oh fuuuck, how into teasing _are_ you? You are gonna let me, right? Is it teasing or making girls cum you have a thing for?

Oooh, yeah, do the circles, I like circles, just a little more...

Fuck, already full of nectar! “Please, Ma...ster, may I...”

Okay, self. The mess is sexy. He thinks the mess is sexy. Before he looked like he wanted to actually eat you for real when you were like this.

God dammit still so humiliating. I never really thought I had a lot of dignity, but damn, there goes the last of it.

Not wanting to break rhythm, I shake my head back and forth without letting up, and she whimpers, disappointed.

Oh fuck please fuck me so I can get off this is gonna break me more I dunno if I can break more...

If you drink enough succubus nectar, do you just spontaneously come? It’s been half an hour, maybe, since we had sex, and the only thing touching my cock is the smooth, cool stone of the raft, but it’s throbbing and burning like I’ve been having sex for the whole half hour, and I realize I have to stop moving around or come.

I’m not coming without my cock inside some part of her. I’ve done enough of that for one lifetime. Carefully...

Oh thank Sade come on please yes please god if you didn’t get so much out of making me desperate like this I think I’d just die of it pleeeease

“Once I’m in you, you can come. Understand?”

Nod nod NOD. That I can do. Hell, bet I could do it on command at this point.

I wish you didn’t have pubes, that’s going to be obnoxious. Well, last time it’ll be a problem, if I know you.

Yes please come up here ooh your weight on me feels so good, I feel so small...

Come on hand on my neck. You know you want to. See how much you want...oooh okay this was your evil plan all along huh? 

When I get back atop her, her face is covered in the nectar I’ve forbidden her to swallow. If she were human and it weren’t nectar, didn’t smell like candy flowers and sex, didn’t grant eternal youth, wasn’t already getting mapped in my brain as some insane collision of drug, sex and food, would this still turn me on? Would I be into making such a mess of her? There’s no way to know. She’s succubus and it’s delicious and sexy and I’m maybe losing track just a little of whether she’s for fucking or eating because with a succubus those are the same thing.

Drinking nectar turns you into yourself. Fucking a succubus? Maybe kind of turns you into one, or something like it, just a little bit.

I’m a monster. The words center me, an ironclad truth I can cling to as everything I know falls into question. I’m a monster and it feels _good_.

Neep ooh okay maybe being all messy is worth it if it’s so you can lick me clean one little part at a time like this ooh.

Gotta keep my mouth shut at this point or I’ll undo all your cleaning, you get that right? Please kiss me...OR lick my lips all slow and sensual, holy fuck that’s hot okay.

Please please c’mon....uhuh, yes, lips to lips, good. Now _make_ me kiss you, show me who’s Master, c’mon...

For just a moment she resists the kiss and in another situation I might take this as refusal but just now there aren’t going to be any refusals so I wrap the hand that’s not holding me up leaning over her around her neck, gently, and force my tongue between her lips, and she melts, her mouth opening against mine with a burst of sweet clear nectar, watery and refreshing in contrast to her cunt’s dark intensity, that I have to swallow twice to get down.

Ooooh fuck why is it so relaxing to feel so delicate in your hands? Just wanna melt...

I’m a third Valkyr, I’m all Sade, my mom’s actually survived going toe-to-toe with a seraphim, I myself got back on my feet two minutes after smashing my leg into a million pieces and that off _blood_ , and in your hands I feel like one of Mintie’s tissue paper cranes. I do not make any fucking sense at all and it feels _awesome_.

Yes neep okay kissing back now see I’m good!

Yes tail I agree lets wrap you around the arm that’s holding us down. See how much I love this, Master?

When I break the kiss, she gasps a long ragged breath, cooing.

The hand around her neck burns like fire, fire that’s more than the wild energy she’s drinking out through the contact, something deeper and purely emotional. I _have_ her. I press with my fingers, and she surrenders, melting perceptibly beneath me, eyes submissive, wings splayed out behind her against the raft as if in display.

Perfect.

Yes I’m helpless alright come on and OH YES UNH FINALLY

She comes to life as soon as I’m more than just touching my cock to her outer lips, rising off the raft to climb up my shaft, devouring it before I can even get my weight fully on her, and this causes us to fall the couple of inches back to the raft with a bump that claps us together mound to mound. I learn that just because you’re a guy, doesn’t mean your mound isn’t sensitive: she’s warm and soft and wet against it and having her there feels somehow impossible like our bodies are intersecting instead of just fitting together.

The closeness of it makes me come instantly and the last coherent thing I see or think is her kiss-me eyes as I lower my lips to hers.

Kissing someone while you come in them is the most naked feeling imaginable. Doesn’t matter if you’re holding them down.

Fuck yes now let’s _grind_ some things. Scritchy pubes but fuck it I’d make do with a piece of shoggoth hide at this point just actually let me fucking CUUUUUM...

No, kissing someone while both of you come and you hold her down is the most naked feeling imaginable. There’s something in the exchange of power, that says, “This is what I really am", and says, “I know", and says, “I love you and I trust you with my life”. There is...nothing to compare. Nothing I’ve ever felt like it. I have been dying of thirst for nineteen years, and today I’ve finally had a drink, really and truly. The nectar is good, and living forever, is, well, immortality, but this feeling, right here? Lyra’s bare surrender and unguarded affection? This is what I’m going to live forever _for_.

Oooooh fuck yes oh so good and so hard inside while I cum yes please oh yes so worth waiting for oh FUCK YES!

If I weren’t coming already, the way her voice makes every atom of our bodies sing when she comes into our kiss would.

Uuunnnnnh...holy fuck how in Sade’s deep wide toybox is it possible I’ve never figured out till now I’m my own vibe if I can just hit the right note? Ooooooh...something about kissing? Gonna have to figure _this_ out for sure...

Once again, we seem to come for beautiful, luscious ages, and when it ends I collapse on her, releasing her neck, panting and spent, her tail still coiled sweetly around my left arm.

“So, whaddaya think? Like my nectar?”

“YES.”

Hehe.

Hey, where are you going? I’m digging the heavy Master on top of me thing! Oh, okay, just rolling off so you can hold my hand while we look up, okay, that can be nice...

Silence settles, and we spend a long while just looking at the heavens, lying side by side on our backs, my arm under Lyra’s head for a pillow, her hand clasping mine, tip of her tail tracing various tickly-arousing paths on my body.

After a while, motion catches my eye, and I twist my head around to look. Low against the still-open Eye, meteors or falling stars are moving, points of light dropping slowly towards the Sea.

“Hey, look, meteors! Make a wish? Wait, does wishing on a shooting star actually work for real? I’m a little shaky on what qualifies for ‘no such thing’ lately.”

I’ve got a wish alright. I’ve got him right here.

“It’s not magic, but it is romantic. I s’pose you could make some kinda ritual out of it with a little forethought...”

Wonder if there’s anything about that in the library? Someone must have tried it.

Mrf, can’t see. Where? There. Waitasec...

“Oh dude! Yus! We didn’t miss them!”

Poing! Boot, with porting ink, where is it? There. Okay. Plenty enough for a message, even if I have to write with my finger.

Lyra leaps up, snatching up her boot and pulling something that glints in the starlight from it.

“What? What is it?”

“Those are ships. Everyone must’ve come topside to watch the Eye open, I mean it’s quite the transit, Omega’s gotta aspect the Eye just right to make it open, and supposedly it’s good luck for your relationship or pickup game if you play by Eye-light. Show Sade your moves while he’s looking, sort of thing, I guess. It’s been long enough for a decent scene and some aftercare, as we’ve demonstrated, so that’ll be everybody going back inside now, which helps us out a lot because now we can catch a ride without me having to port downstairs and beg a ferry for you!”

I wish you were strong enough to go the whole way on nectar, that’d be so much more romantic. Well, soon. Hell, you might be already, after that little feast, but I’m damn well not going to find out the hard way.

Everyone going back inside. How in the fuck was this raft not already taken? We didn’t get here _that_ early.

“I’m thinking they might be a little far away?”

“Watch the sky. All we need to do is have one get close enough we can make out its colors and I can send them a message.”

Hold up the ink. Bottle of porting ink, message, get it?

Bleh, why does saying that taste like the inside of a pillow?

Oh.

“Um. If you’re ready to go downstairs now, that’s what we’d do. Master.”

Better. Awkward as fuck, but better.

It’s weird, I expected this, but it’s so...I didn’t think it’d feel so _good_ to be good, and so off to be...not. What am I? Fuck, I can still be naughty, right? Mintie’s naughty a lot, she seems to still be able to enjoy it.

Guess I’ll have to test that when we’re not catching a ride, mwhaha...

Okay, I can at least still enjoy _schemeing_ naughtiness. That’s a start.

“It is. I’m watching the sky, be ready.”

“Okay. We should clear off the small pentagram, then, I’m going to kind of be in a hurry, they fall pretty fast. Erum, you can tell it’s close enough if you squint and shake your head back and forth and there’s a light that makes a line of different colors, those are the colors I need to send a message.”

I get up and step outside the circles of the smaller pentagram, parsing out what she’s just said.

“They’re using persistence of vision strobes so you can get an ID with naked eyes when it’s still a speck. And then use the ID to send them a message by magic. That’s amazing.”

But she’s uncorked the phial and is busy carefully tipping drops onto her fingertips and then with them writing something that’s invisible, black ink on black stone, along the lines of the pentagram, lost in the concentration of the task, a look on her face I’m pretty sure I’ve sometimes caught looking back at me, reflected in my monitor between lines of code.

What the fuck is the name of this raft, anyway? Please tell me it’s named, I don’t have the stuff to do a flare. 

Now she’s gotten up, and is walking around the perimeter of the outer pentagram, mouthing words I take to be Infernal to herself.

Blah blah blah, names of the gods, blah bind summon blah, for the succour of...wait, for real? Ah. Heh. Oopsie. 

I guess that explains how we got this nice spot all to ourselves. Where do Sade play? Anyplace they shouldn’t. No, wait, fuck, we actually belong here! Hah! This was the best place we possibly could have had our first-ish time! 

Anyway, return address managed. At least I know we’ll be on their map.

All ready to go, just need the colors. “Okay. Now we get to watch and wait. Somebody should be along shortly, there’s going to be zillions of ships out here, I bet half of Pandemonium came to watch all this.”

Get myself out of the circle before I step someplace stupid and smudge a line.

I guess we’re standing now. Good thing you’re so very lean-against-able...oh man, another hand taller and I could nestle your cock in my butt. I’m _so_ begging for heels when we get downstairs.

Lyra’s warm against me, her wings silky on my chest where they fold down to lines that she nestles along her shoulderblades, and I enfold her, her breasts a warm, welcome weight on my forearms. When she looks up to watch the sky I can’t resist kissing her on the forehead.

“Aw!”

“We’ll seriously never age or die. For real.”

“As long as you don’t shoot yourself in the head or something, yeah, we’ve got forever. For real. I promise. Star my Hollow Heart.”

I shake my head once again, fake-disbelieving but happy.

“How far can it go? If I lost an arm, would it grow back?”

“Takes a few weeks and a lot of nectar, but yeah. I mean it just turns you into yourself, there’s not really a limit on what that means if that’s what you’re asking. I’ve met a couple people who gender-flipped - relax, they were pretty psyched about it so I wouldn’t worry unless you’ve got a whole world of fantasies I somehow missed - and once in a blue Eye somebody gets elf ears or fur or whatever, but that’s kinda rare. It’s all about what’s really _you_.”

Heh. Trying to imagine femme you is almost as funny as imagining my mom bottoming.

“Damn.”

The phrase echoes in my head: _turns you into yourself_.

What is myself? What am I? I’m a monster in human form.

_I could do with a few hundred tentacles right about now._

Yeah, that’s not gonna haunt me or anything.

“I just...fucking hell. I can’t take this in. What’s the catch? There’s got to be a catch, right?”

“Catch?”

“I dunno, this, you, all of this, it’s too good to be true, it started out too good to be true when you showed up in my room and now it’s just...it’s too much. This is too much to ask for. There must be a catch, wish fulfillment always has a catch.”

Shrug.

“Why? Life’s not fair.”

“Huh?”

“Life’s not fair. Why does it always have to be unfair against us? Why _can’t_ there be something as awesome as you and me in the world? If life’s so unfair, if there’s really noone watching over this crazy ignored safeword of a multiverse, why can’t _we_ be the ones getting away with dust for once? Sade knows even downstairs everybody deals with more than their share of spikeups, why’s it so wrong to wanna have something awesome and beautiful and everlasting and get it for free just this once?”

Okay, getting me to go down on her tail and _like_ it, that wasn’t bad. But making nihilism sound like good news? _That_ is seduction.

“Anyway, it’s not like you and me was exactly free for either of us. I know I’ve been through some dust, even before tonight. Especially before tonight. You have too, and I can’t imagine you enjoyed it, not if you incubated up _me_ and then had to live on _Earth_ not knowing about anything at all. At least I got to know I was looking for you.”

Incubated. And let’s not forget that reference to ‘implanted’ a few moral event horizons ago.

What, what’s wrong? Why’d you go all stiff like that?

Well. All tense. All stiff would be much nicer.

“Master?”

The hell? That was supposed to be “Honey”. How’d I Freudian ‘honey’ into ‘Master’? It’s not like I’m exactly repressing the idea.

“That thing where you’ve been like watching me forever to figure out if you like me, it wasn’t that simple, was it?”

There are more lights visible now, moving across the sky. Lyra’s right, there seem to be hundreds, many rising instead of falling, heading off into the waves above us.

Ooooh. Fuck, me and my big mouth. Whelp, this is going to be interesting.

That look. You’ve got the pieces, but you’re putting them together...not in a good way.

“Um, you weren’t _wrong_?” Grin?

I turn my head, lowering my view to look Lyra in the eye as I ask the next and very important question, and one of the lights smears out into a streak of out-of-order rainbow, and I point, all reflex.

“There!”

It’s coming our way, falling gently through the sky.

Lyra slips out of my arms and dives for the pentagram.

“Woo! And it’s close! Okay, we’re gonna have like half a ges once the message is sent, so be ready to jump in the water.”

_Purple red blue yellow green blue PUSH!_

Thank Sade, it worked. Mostly. I need to suck better at this.

For a moment, nothing seems to happen, and then the speck of light bends its course to head straight for us, dropping at an angle. A few seconds later, a shimmering light of a color I can’t pin down runs along the silver lines of the pentagram and then a line of text in the angularly calligraphic alphabet I’m beginning to assume is Infernal snaps into being in the center of the inner pentagram, glowing against the black stone.

“What’s it say?”

Lyra’s watching the speck that’s grown into a glinting needle-pointed deep-green sliver in the sky as it hurtles towards us, intent, but glances down.

“’Certainly, grab hold!’”

Crap, of course they’re not going to stop and dock just for the two of us. Well, banzai.

“Grab hold?”

“Okay, there’s gonna be a chain, with handles, going fast. You need to grab the handles, because if you grab the chain it’ll just rip your arm off. Then squeeze the handles to slow down before you hit the end of the chain, and _then_ you can take one of the ones that’s piled up on you to help you climb up the chain.”

Relax, it’s simpler than it sounds.

“It’ll make more sense when you see it. Get ready!”

In the time it’s taken her to say this and me to be confused by it, the ship has taken on the precipitously approaching aspect of a landing airliner. It’s moving too fast and Lyra is tugging at my hand too much to get a good look, but it’s maybe a hundred feet long, made of sea-green wooden-looking planks and black riveted iron hardware binding it all together, but it’s nothing like a sailing ship from Earth: the hull is long and thin, a tapering needle-pointed shape with a shorter taper at the stern collapsing the cross-section to a flat vertical rudder with a scalloped trailing edge and stylized ‘fingers’ reminiscent of a bat’s wing. From the sides of the hull, two sets of massive wings or fins made of canvas sails stretched between round masts like fingers project, folded back like the wings of a diving bird and held in place with great metal half-circle clamps, and glinting Eyelight here and there seems to indicate the glass of windows. At the bow, a long, metal spike projects, still glowing white-hot from its adventure.

Lyra’s tugging at my hand, pulling me toward the edge of the raft, but I’m rapt, listening to the impossible song this design is singing to me: long, narrow hull, more conical than the thing it’s got to stay inside. Foldable wings, for the same reason. Long spike at the front, to move the shockwave even further forward, still blazing from aerodynamic heating. And it’s a sailing ship, the nature of the wings and rudder and lack of other visible propulsion shout that idea out loud. A flying, hypersonic, _sailing ship_.

“Master!”

Fuck! Sword! Where? There.

“Catch!”

Lyra tosses me Cleavage, and I instinctively throw the strap over my shoulder, still distracted by the design of the ship, trying to take it all in at once as I used to do as a kid watching planes on the approach to Logan.

“I expect we’re about to meet people. I’d offer you my shirt, but...”

“Heh. Not going to be a thing, don’t worry.”

Surprise level: 0.00+-0

Right, it’s a hypersonic sailing ship we need to _catch_. It’s slowing, as it passes over us, but still going fast, angled to dive cleanly to the sea on the far side of the raft. A spray of something wispy and silvery bursts from the stern as it passes over our heads, I suddenly I understand Lyra’s cryptic instructions, and, taking her hand, dive off the edge of the raft.  


She pulls us under as soon as we’re in the water, diving deep. When the turbulence clears, I force my eyes open, startled to find them un-stung by the salty water, and watch Lyra swim. She’s graceful, on land, but in water, she’s a revelation, swimming with the easy, simple grace of a seal, toes spread and wings pumping, driving us downward with vertiginous speed, so fast it feels like—

A peal of thunder roars through the water, rattling the both of us, and then I see the ship ahead of us, not landing in the water but diving into it, bow pointing almost straight down, the sound of the impact reverberating in our bones like a rocket launch. It passes, perilously close as Lyra swims urgently for it, and I make out details as they rush past trailing bubbles: iron-rimmed windows glowing with a purple light, Infernal text emblazoning (I assume) the ship’s name, the unmistakable tapering shapes of hydrofoil fins folded flat against the hull, something large and flat and dully glinting held in place with chains, and then it’s past and Lyra is letting go of my hand and reaching for something: the chains that have blossomed, hundreds of feet long, from the stern of the ship. There are dozens, splaying out, evidently driven apart by some clever feat of hydrodynamics. They blur past, but I can make out fittings at intervals with projecting rings the size of dinner plates: the handles.

Lyra hesitates, waiting for me to take hold first, and I snatch at the next ring that comes near, catching it with a lurch. It slides along the chain freely, but there’s a lever like a bike brake along the inside of the ring, and when I squeeze the mechanism that’s sliding along the chain grabs hold gently and slowly begins pulling me up to speed with the ship. It’s the first time since this started I’ve been more than a few inches from Lyra, and the lack of her presence makes my heart drop, but when I look around she’s clinging to another chain, keeping pace with me and grinning wildly.

Further handles pile up against mine as the chain runs past me, helping me to brake, and then suddenly I’ve come gently to a ‘stop’, the water tearing at every part of me with the speed of our dive.

Use the ones that pile up to climb the chain? Oh. Grabbing a second handle, I alternate braking and sliding each one, climbing up the chain toward the stern of the ship, and as I realize with relief that someone inside is retracting the chain at the same time, doubling or tripling my progress, a touch at my elbow nearly startles me into losing hold or taking a lungful of Seawater, but it’s just Lyra: she’s been keeping pace and the splay of the chains has brought us near enough for her to loop her tail around my arm, affectionate, and then the ship is upon us, the chains winching us into an alcove at the stern, bright with golden-white pinprick lights. Brilliant calligraphic luminescent-purple arrows indicate a direction to go and a handhold to grab, so I take hold and pull myself toward the door, green-planked and iron-riveted, that they indicate, and then there’s a water-muffled bang behind me as Lyra closes the other door of the airlock, wrapping herself around me as soon as I turn to her, searching for kisses I return desperately.

Sade’s rope rack, that was what, like ten cubits apart? And if one of us had messed up the other would’ve just let go too? And it felt like the length of the Sea. I _really_ hope we turn out to be able to do Hollow Heart Summoning, I don’t think I’m good at separation.

You’re not either, they way we’re kissing right now.

There’s a creak and a deafening gurgle and bubbles surround us as the airlock cycles, emptying of water in seconds, and as soon as the surface drops past our heads I break our kiss to take a gasping breath, realizing I’m grinning the same stupid grin that’s still plastered over Lyra’s face.

“Woo! I’ll tell you one thing, the Hogwarts Express has nothing on this.”

I hadn’t known that making out in an airlock while it cycles was on my bucket list, but it _was_ , and motherfucking _check_.

“Hah! And that wasn’t even the interesting part. Come on, let’s...” Pfech, argh!

“I wanna get inside and dry off.”

As if on cue, there’s a clank of retracting deadbolts and hiss of breaking seals, and a strange, shocking-pink creature opens the door.

No. I’m in that one scene from _Out of the Silent Planet_. This is a human girl, age unguessable, strangely, almost inhumanly broad-featured and yet disconcertingly pretty, long black hair tied into neat, asymmetrical braids to accommodate the short-shorn patch on her left temple. Her skin is pale, but she’s not Caucasian or any other ethnicity I can make out, not even developed-world mutt, and as she leans into the airlock to mutter a string of syllables I can’t parse and rakes her eyes over the both of us while she talks, unabashed and appraising, it comes to me that she’s nearly as naked as Lyra, wearing masses of extravagant gold or silver (the monochromatic light makes it impossible to tell) jewelry, elaborate sandals that twine thin black leather straps nearly to her knees, and nothing else. This make me feel a bit better, because it’s also spawned the realization that in all the excitement of catching this ride I somewhat forgot my to put my shorts back on.

There’s the sudden expected instinct to cover myself, but my hands are full of succubus, so instead we just kind of stand there, mid-makeout.

As to the fate of my shorts, there’s actually a grim satisfaction: they were the only artifact of Earth I’d brought to this universe, and I’m glad to have entered here without them - truthfully, I noted them laying on the raft as I bent my head to don the sword, and then had ‘forgotten’ them by the time I had it in position. So let Earth be left behind. My only regret, given the apparent optionality of clothing here, is not getting the chance to ball them up and hurl them into the Sea.

«Quietly, we seem to be overrun with aftercare. Welcome aboard _Charon’s Changepurse_.»

In the instant before I remember not to ogle I get an impression of a sort of trim grace, understated curves and small taut breasts. An expression of vague disappointment passes over her face when I look back to it, and then I turn to Lyra because she’s starting to respond in the language that I recognize on her tongue as Infernal, and the room goes sideways for a moment.

«Thanks. Do you know where we’re docking?»

I’ve been hanging out with a monster all night. It’s only been hours, but apparently that’s long enough to totally recalibrate my sense of beauty: I haven’t seen it for lack of anything to compare to, but now I have this human for comparison and though her features are strange and unearthly, she’s still just a very beautiful human, only looking so alien and unreasonably pink because I’ve gotten used to staring at Lyra’s unlikely proportions and pale-grey skin. A soft purple light the same color as the markings that light up the airlock glows from behind new girl, giving a her skin a lurid tinge that ironically softens the shock by making her look more alien.

«I should hope so, it’s my ship. Lesser Port of Imanenni.»

Fuckity. Where the fuck is that? Not near home, anyway. What’s a landmark she’ll know?

«Stained Hall, is it on the way?»

«I’ll bend us near Charybdis’ Breath, you should be able to swim that.»

Huh? Oh, top of the Falls. Formal names mumble grumble.

«Thanks.»

«Are you sure? It’s only a league or so from Immaneni to the Breath inside. Take no time at all once he learns a little dynamic entry.»

Nod nod. 

«I’m sure.» 

I just wanna get home as fast as I can now.

«Suit yourself. I’m gonna change course as soon as I get back in the seat, so head for the airlock here when we turn the second time. Should be a good watch or so from now, we’re not the express I’m afraid.»

Nod.

Yes, I’m wearing a Hollow Heart amulet. What of it?

«You guys are pretty. I suppose you’re _both_ Hollow Hearts?»

«Sorry. Can still ask Master. You want?»

Ech, what the hell was that? Slow down, self, it’s not like people can’t tell you’re still new.

«Don’t give yourself cramps over it, just feeling slutty. Anyway, come on in.»

Lyra...well. Her body’s beautifully impossible, proportions unreasonable, and now I realize her face goes just as far, goes further, as if it’s built around pegging the parameters of whatever in me measures prettiness rather than anything to do with biology or heredity. Those big impossible eyes actually are bigger than you’re going to ever get on a human. Those sweet fuckable lips aren’t something evolution was ever going to produce. It’s a beautiful face, but a fey face, magical and impossible, something ripped out of the best kind of hentai. The girl who’s answered the door has definitely hit the genetic-lottery jackpot herself, but Lyra’s something else, almost...crafted, a grammar-flouting poem about feminine beauty like animate artistic license. Just looking at her like this makes me want to pin her against the wall behind her and kiss her until we fall through because of proton decay.

The strange woman’s gesturing us in as she turns to clear out of the door breaks my reverie. There’s a susurration of quiet voices from behind her, the low noise of a quiet but crowded room, and I realize with a start that there’s no hint of engine noise or any kind of life-support thrum.

You know you’re a scifi nerd when you worry at the quiet your very first time stepping out of an airlock.

“What did she say?”

They’re speaking in hushed voices, so I follow the peer pressure.

“We should be quiet because everyone’s aftercaring, and then I asked where we’re going and she told me.”

And then propositioned us, but let’s not open that can of worms _quite_ yet. No loss, she seems kind of Overlord and I know you’re not going to be up for that.

The stranger is stepping inside, casting a look over her shoulder as if to see that we’re following, and then smirking at me fractionally when she sees that my gaze has fallen to her nicely-toned ass.  


I glance to see if Lyra’s caught me looking as well, but she’s looking, if I didn’t know better, in the same direction I was.

Following the stranger over the threshold, the deck is, incongruous to the wooden structure, made of some shiny black poured stone, unbroken by seams but embedded with flecks of mica or something else dully sparkling. Inside the door, it’s inlaid with more silver lines in a complicated, curving pattern that reminds me of the design on Cleavage’s blade. Same subject matter, if I could get an overview, likely as not.

Man, they really are overrun with aftercare. I wanna curl up now too...

«You were on the Lost Hunter's Rest. What _happened_  to you?»

«We just came from Earth - fucking...hell of a ride...never _seen_ so many perfekti. When...we surfaced, we...came out...like half an aslu from it. I think we would have...drowned without it.»

«Sade’s Balls, the blessing actually works?»

«Apparently.»

«A lost planet. I thought your human looked newly abducted. And likes femmes? And by the way he’s looking at me I’m the first native he’s seen?»

«Yeah. Wait, fuck, don’t kiss, he’ll freak! Earth is mononormative!»

Fucking traditionalists.

«Relax, I’m not going to get myself spiked or tangled up in a Hollow Heart I don’t know. I’m not a child.»

Lyra’s urgent and bristling - I even catch the English word ‘fuck’ in her exclamation - but the worry seems oddly to be directed at our interlocutor instead of me as I might expect in this situation.

The stranger turns to me, extending a hand as if to shake, but when I take it she clasps my hand warmly with both of hers and brings it to her lips, kissing my palm like...

Okay, I _will_ say, Master needs a set of silver rings like that. Especially doing thin ones on the thumb so you can still fit two like on the fingers, that’s creative.

Creatively _unf_. Time to make with the music lessons.

Sorry, I’m fresh out of metaphors. I’ve never met something formally flirtatious before, especially not at a volume _I_ can hear with any clarity. It’s actually _weird_ , being touched sexually by a human, almost incestuously familiar after Lyra’s alien thrill.

«Welcome to Pandemonium, fellow prey.»

Huh. So I really _don’t_ mind. I really thought Viktor was going to be wrong on that count. Interesting. 

Oh fuck dammit, guess I’m gonna lose that one. I’m _so_ claiming new Master’s prerogative on that bet, you’ll totally let me out of it when you find out what the stakes were.

When Lyra finishes translating, the alien human - girl? Woman? Her age is a lot more than unguessable and I realize that for all I know she might be thousands of years old - lets my hand drop, and then without transition pulls two (presumably, the monochromatic light now that we’re out of the airlock stomps all colors to shades of purple) deep-purple towels from a shelf, tossing one to each of us.

FUCK YES TOWELS NO MORE SOGGY UNDERBOOBS

“Fellow prey?”

Fangs fangs, lick my lips like I’m about to give a blowjob. “Om nyom nom nom.”

Yes, but hearing it put like that shouldn’t turn me on. Should it?

«We’re an old ship, no facilities on board. You’ll have to wash the salt off and preen when you get home, sorry.»

Preen? Look, you...yeah okay fine I guess I probably look pretty spiked up after this night. Ugh.

«No worries. This is still the...luxuriant...part of our trip...so far.»

«Thanks. Anyway, I’m sure my Hench miss me and I should go get us moving again. Enjoy the ride!»

The familiarity and mundanity of the artifact is surreal after the rest of the night. It’s just purple terrycloth, luxuriously thick and nice, no magic, no unreasonable overengineering, not even a weird material (right? Please let this just be cotton), the only interesting thing about it that it’s near big enough to be a bedsheet. When I look up from the towel, our host has vanished.

Toweling off instead of drip-drying again is almost orgasmic. It’s rather nice having some cloth to do something with.

“That was...interesting. Am I actually that hot, or is that some kind of formal thing?”

I probably should have expected etiquette to be a bit epic in the land of the kinky demons.

Tell me about it. Not that I’m disagreeing with her taste obviously, I mean _I’m_ sure seeing the potential, but why be so intent on molesting my poor newbly and nectar-shy Master? Surely if you’re feeling homosubstantial there’s plenty of experienced...

Oh. Derp. I bet she lives for moments like this, that’s why she bothers to captain a ferry.

“It’s an old formal welcome for new humans, but you definitely just got hit on hardcore. I think she’s into virgins.”

What.

“I hope you’re not mad that I let her flirt with me like that. I didn’t really know what was...”

I’m actually glad there’s a Serious Relationship Issue to stop me falling into the endless abyss of ‘just missed that boat’ puns.

“Shh, relax. I know I’m yours. I’m sure you could figure out how to make me jealous if you really wanted, but that’s sure not going to do it. I know noone’s going to displace me.”

So what if I am _totally cheating_ on that one?

“Good.”

Unfff. _Towel_. I swear it’s even scraping off the salt. So good being back to civilization. Whoever said many waters can’t quench love hadn’t seen the shower I’m going to take when we get downstairs. What’s it been, three whole signs?

“Anyway, I’m pretty sure she was trying to flirt with the pair of us, not just you. So.”

This last comes disinterestedly out of the towel that Lyra has draped over her head as she dries her hair. Really?

“You’re not sounding...that’s not weird here, huh.”

There’s an odd squeak: she’s polishing the salt off her horns.

Erk, ow. Need wax so bad.

Oh my fuck you hand me the best lines sometimes.

“Everything’s weird here. You get used to it.”

“Heh.”

“Make s...” Blech. MRF. Really? Umum. “The sea-salt is purifying, but now it’s going to be full of dust from Earth it drew out of you and it tastes gross to me. I’ll like it if you wipe off as much as you can.”

So awkward. This had better not be becoming a thing.

“Of course.”

When I open my eyes from giving my face a final wipe, Lyra’s drying her wings, folding them around herself and pulling the membrane through two fistfuls of towel. I throw mine around my waist, doubled up so it doesn’t drag on the floor, and am about to offer to help when she finishes.

Ahhh. Well, kind of unsalty, at least. Please let there not be any mirrors, I don’t want to know how my hair is doing.

Toss the towel...no? That fuzzy taste again? Oh. I get it. Dunno what Master wants, so gotta ask, even if I meant to do the slutty thing. Is the instinct always going to shout so loud? I can be Henchey on my own, I just need to get used to it, it’s not like it doesn’t feel good...

“Am I putting this on?”

How optional _is_ clothing here? I look around the room for the first time since coming in. I’ve gotten disoriented as we entered: from outside it’d looked like the airlock led into the belly of the ship, but we’re on top. This shouldn’t really be surprising: the deck is level under my feet, meaning we must not be diving anymore, and the only time the ship could have rotated with my noticing is while we made out in the airlock.

The timber curves around over our heads so that the hull is an arching roof, meeting the floor in sloping walls like an attic room, long and taperingly narrow with the pointed shape of the ship. It’s dimly purple-lit, the light emanating from the corners where the thick green timber ribs that line the inside of the green-timber hull meet the hull. Green and purple are complimentary, and the floor is black, with the result that the only thing that the purple light really illuminates is the furniture and its occupants, making us all seem to float in a black void. Other colors glow from the walls: the iron-rimmed portals I saw from outside, showing glimpses of some otherworldly glowing vista under the Sea.

The furniture is easily described, a riot of mismatching, gothically ornate couches, chairs, and scattered or piled cushions of all sizes up to and including good-sized mattresses, much of it worn or threadbare, but all lavish and comfortable-looking in the way Victorian furniture never is on Earth: we’re in a very old, very expensive, very well-used room.

The occupants of the furniture, not so easily. It’s as if we’re in the aftermath of some happy cataclysm. Almost everyone is comforting or comforted, wrapped in blankets and watched over by a solicitous caretaker or sleeping in someone’s arms or being held and caressed and spoken to with soft words. It should look like a roomful of refugees, but while there are tears or the obvious recent memory thereof in streaks of mascara or black (and maybe other colors? The light once again makes it impossible to tell) succubus tears here and there, these people seem to just feel safe, some seemingly unwinding from something terrible and intense, others glowing with the satisfaction I saw on Lyra’s face as we lay together on the raft before, but all happy and content and peaceful.

And of course, only about half the crowd is human, if that. It’s dim and many of the pairs or groups - collections of three and four obviously all together are common, and there’s at least one gang of five all resting in a pile - are under blankets or in shadowy corners or partly obscured by hanging curtains or all three, so it’s hard to see detail, but horns of various kinds, fur or scales, wings feathered or batlike, draping tails, even lazily splayed tentacles abound. Near us two masculine figures recline against one of the pillars that brace the hull, a big muscular one enfolding his obviously male but extravagantly made-up human in dark-feathered wings.

  


“Master?”

I blink out of my staring around. Lyra’s standing there, holding her towel uncertainly in front of her, sort of carefully not covering herself, a few steps away: I’ve wandered a bit further into the room in my reverie, trying to get a better look.

Right. How optional is clothing here? Really optional. More of the crowd is naked or dressed in what I’ll call the opposite of clothing, than not.

“Sorry. Nope, in the hamper with it.” There’s a bin beneath the shelf, an unfolded towel hanging over the edge, another incongruous island of normalcy poking out of the sea of madness.

In response, she balls the towel and tosses it expertly to the bin, and then slinks slowly up to me, clearly showing off for the passengers who’ve noticed us as much as for me.

Mmm exhibitionism. So much for not inheriting any Macabra. Yeah you all wish you were my Master, huh?

Whee!

Which is, I’ll admit, sort of my point, but it’s still a bit weird how much I enjoy it when I realize I’m succeeding in displaying her. I put out my hand as she approaches, and she takes it, but then raises it above her head and pirouettes as if we’re dancing, grinning cutely and then falling against me so that she’s facing outward, head lolled back against my shoulder, looking up at me with happy eyes, and lets out a mighty sigh as I put my arms around her.

There’s a quiet old-metal creak I parse as the clamps that held the wings or sails in place letting go, and then the deck shifts under our feet with acceleration and vibrates with the soft, slow, rhythmic thuds of some great engine driving the wings to push us onward.

Never thought I’d be _so_ glad to hear that sound.

“Almost home now.”

“I can’t wait to see it.”

Oh! Windows? C’mon windows. No, _good_ windows, not the dinky round ones...

“There’s probably a window at the front, wanna go see?”

“Lead the way, and give me a show while you do.”

Getting hit on by a likely-millenia-old ship captain should probably bother me, but in truth it’s rather made my day (saying something, for an event to even _register_ as good or bad, compared to the rest of today) and left me in a bizarrely playful mood.

Hehe. “Yes _Master_.”

When I let her go, she stretches spectacularly, arms in a knuckle-cracking square stretch, back arched, wings spread to their limit, and then sways off in the direction of the bow, tail lashing in rhythm with her steps. I’m tempted to catch up and grab her ass, but then I wouldn’t have this view.

Sure enough, this end of the room is dominated by a wide, almost floor-to-ceiling (though the ceiling is claustrophobically low, this far forward) plate glass window, sloping steeply with the slant of the hull like a car’s windshield. More impossible stuff, this time it’s material science that’s getting spanked: the window is unreasonably clear, inches thick but without the green tint of glass or the fuzzy distortion of acrylic. It’s flanked on either side by staircases leading down into the floor, railings against the wall.

When she reaches the window, Lyra settles onto her elbows on the waist-height railing that runs in front of it, bent over just enough to show me her pussy, and I’m little taken aback at myself when my reaction isn’t ‘shame we’re not alone’ but ‘I wonder if we’d disturb anyone having sex here?’.

Come on, you know you want to...mmm. Coo. Well, that’s a start.

And then I see out the window, and content myself with a hand on her ass, fingers trailing against her warm outer lip.

There are stars in the Sea.

No. But lights, yes, in all colors, pure whites and menacing reds and eerie greens and everywhere the fusion-flame purple that seems to be the trademark of this place. Some tiny, some wavering, some brilliant and almost blinding, glowing against mountain ranges and tendrils and filaments and thickets of dark shapes of every size that are too hazy with distance even in the impossibly clear water of the Sea to make out from here.

And it goes on out of sight, in all directions, fading away in the clear water.

Pretty cool, huh?

Arm around you, wing around you, tail up the arm that’s grabbing my ass, snuggle up and nestle into your hand. Sade’s Balls so comforting, getting felt up by someone who’s _really_ into me tastes _awesome_. There really is a reason it’s never far enough for Hollow Hearts until it’s too far.

“Welcome home, Master.”

“This is amazing. Is it as big as it looks? How many of you _are_ there?”

“Sade? We think maybe a few trillion, give or take. Might be lots more. Nobody can really be fucked to count, even the Capricorns don’t organize stuff that big.”

“Holy fuck. I was expecting...I don’t even know. This is insane. It’s _bigger_ than it looks, huh.”

Nod.

“Capricorns?”

“You know, spreadsheet fetishists, org chart sluts, people you really shouldn’t play first edition DnD with.”

Sure. Why not? It takes all kinds.

Wait, Lyra knows enough to make a DnD editions joke? Who _is_ this girl?

We’re quiet for a while, watching the vista before us inch closer, basking in each others’ embrace, and eventually the settling peace lets me remember that most important question I had.

“You said you’d explain to me where babies come from. I’m guessing I was...involved somehow, in your case.”

“Well...you know that thing with the angel and the demon on your shoulders and they argue about whether you should be good or awesome?”

“Yeah...”

“Ever wake up horny in the middle of the night and feel like you maybe weren’t quite alone and only had the demon?”

No way.

“Every single time.”

“Ever notice that some of your fantasies were maybe a little more vivid than other ones?”

She was...

“...yeah.”

Wave wave.

“Hi.”

“You weren’t just watching.”

“Nope.”

“You were...incubating. Inside me. I thought I just had specific taste, but no, it’s you I was seeing. I dreamed about you even. You...what? You grew in me?”

“Yeah. Well. Kinda. ‘Grew’ isn’t really the right word. My friend Viktor who specializes in this stuff says it’s more like ‘built’ but not really that either.”

Implanted. Built. Incubating. Seeing my fantasies. _Being_ my fantasies.

Fantasies, dreams, fragments, abstract things, faceless girls, the nights of my adolescence like a wave-function I never had the courage to collapse suddenly hurtling inward, becoming, shattering into wholeness like ice touched to supercooled water that becomes the twin rings of purple fire that now look softly back at me, luminous in the ship’s cozy gloom.

Pieces...

The pieces slam home, and the terrible question I’ve been leading up to turns itself inside out with the violence of a black hole inverting.

“Did I...did I _make_ you?”

“Hi Daddy!”


	11. Sugar and Spice

_Holy FUCK._

Pain again. I’m biting the same finger as before, much harder this time.

She’s just looking at me, still bent over the railing, smiling nervously.

Yes I know it’s not that simple but fuck it this is romantic can’t I just believe in something romantic? It’s not _that_ inaccurate.

Say something please say something come on...

Her eyes are...pleading. Pleading for love.

I seize her by a horn and pull her face to mine to be kissed with the violent, desperate, consuming passion that is the only thing that can answer this moment.

...mmmmmfff oh my fuck okay I love you too...

I’ll give it, little one, I promise. You’ve seen how I want you.

“I...how? Not that I’m complaining, but how? What _am_ I, Lyra? I thought I understood at least some of this, but...”

Alright, alright, details. Just...just keep looking at me like that.

“You’re a kinky human boy who got lonely enough to attract a Sade seed. It implanted in you and together it and you made me.”

“It and me?”

“Well, building a soul’s pretty complicated, you’re smart but nobody’s _that_ smart on their own, so there’s kind of a...so ghosts are like fragments of a soul, right? One really focused, like, thought or drive, right? It’s called the seed-ghost, and it’s like, smart enough to figure stuff out and think but it doesn’t really have feelings or think on its own, it just makes sure I get built right, makes sure you get what you...”

“...actually want. It makes sure you come out how I want. No matter what that means.”

Holy fucking _fuck_.

All of the monsters we’ve just walked past look radically different from each other. Horns and wings are _common_ , but not by far the only inhuman feature - they’re all over the map, stuff that couldn’t possibly all be one species. But...

“These are all succubi around us. The non-humans.”

“Yeah.”

I’ve always had a hentai habit. I’m not embarrassed beyond the usual making sure I feel guilty enough about it that God doesn’t punish me by making sure I never get an actual girlfriend - a ship which has now not so much sailed as proceeded straight out the plane of the ecliptic at maximum warp - but at some point, as I grew up, things...changed. My usual search terms on konachan, more and more instead of just the usual stuff like ‘pussy’ and ‘bikini’ with okay maybe a ‘bondage’ or three in there, started to include things like ‘horns’ and ‘wings’ and ‘tail’. It’d scared the hell out of me, made me wonder if that dream was the beginning of some kind of psychosexual breakdown, or, ironically, if some kind of demon was possessing me, twisting me to be into monstrous things sexually.

But no. I’ve debugged some things in my day. I can tell when I’ve got a causal arrow facing the wrong way.

“Your...you look the way you do because of me. You could have looked human, but I didn’t actually want that.”

“Yep. This is all you, Master, you’ve got yourself quite the monster-girl thing.”

Dude. _Baby_. This is all you _baby_. Seriously what the fuck, can I just not call you anything else now? How does that work?

“So I see.”

I’m not exactly in a position to argue - once you’ve gone down on someone’s tail without a second thought, and then followed up with using their wing as a handle to hold them down, you’re no longer allowed to question your monster-girl fetish.

“But I get it. What better way for a creature that lives off sex to _get_ sex, right? Why bother with trickery and seduction and manipulation and stuff when you can just be someone I’ll love so hard I’ll never want to do anything ever again but have sex with them for the rest of time, even if it means you end up as a monster sex slave?”

Hey now...

“You make ‘monster sex slave’ sound like a bad thing. _I’m_ having a good time so far.” 

“No, sorry, I can tell you’re into it, I just...I’ve been thinking all this time you must have made me kinky somehow, like, well, seasoned me I guess, so I’d be better prey. But no. I made you kinky.”

“That’d be some seasoning that could turn a vanilla kinky. But you _can_ start from scratch and get just as kinky as you want.”

“Which is apparently pretty kinky. Is...are...I hope you like how you came out. I hope I didn’t...”

Is this a self-centered question? I’m trying to focus on how Lyra feels, but it’s kind of hard when everything comes back to me because I _fscking created her_.

Oh my fuck so glad I tasted your tears before, I’d be so hurt right now otherwise, if I didn’t know how I look to you. You’re just worried I don’t look that way to myself.

“Shhh, it’s okay, Master. All the Sade are weird, that’s the whole point of us, I mean look around. If I was gonna want to be normal I wouldn’t have implanted in you in the first place. I _like_ being a freak, it’s fun, normal is for Lilim and Vena. I’m all kawaii and yet I still get to have fangs and these totally metal wings and dude, seriously, tailgasms.”

“Good. I just hope when you look in the mirror you like what you see as much as I do.”

“Aw! Can’t, though, I don’t have a reflection.”

Keep a straight face. Keep a straight face. Keep a straight face.

She sounds serious and melodramatically sad, but her face is a laugh waiting to happen.

“You are the worst liar ever.”

“Apparently.”

“And this is why you speak English already but you have to learn Infernal. You got it from me.”

“Yep. ‘s pretty much a straight copy of your language skills.”

“You sound nothing like me, though. I mean, I like it, don’t get me wrong...”

Shrug.

“I don’t give a fuck about sounding clever, and you think it’s cute when girls cuss.”

Well, that’s disturbingly insightful, even from someone who’s seen my id from the inside.

“How long does it take? How old are you?”

“The seed-ghost builds someone old enough to consent, old enough to be a good partner for you. I’m not sure how to put a number of years on that. But I’m not like, actually a kid or something, relax.”

“No, I figured. I mean, how long does it take to build you? How long were you in me?”

“A few years? It kinda varies, souls are complicated. It’s tough to figure out the date from someone’s wet dreams and I didn’t really have a sense of time, I mean at the beginning I wasn’t even anyone yet, but usually it’s four or five years. The seeds are attracted to loneliness and compatible sexual energy, and nobody’s got more of both than a fourteen-year-old human _and_ that’s usually the point where you start having enough of a soul sexually that the ghost can find it, so the math works out.”

There was a night, when I was fourteen, when something changed, or settled in me. All in one moment the haze of lust that accompanies puberty had resolved, coalesced into this terrible longing loneliness wishing not just for sex but for the person I’d be having sex _with_ that felt for a second like it’d tear me apart and I’d cried out inside myself with the force of it, and then the need was slaked, just a bit, as if by magic, as if something had...implanted in me.

“Yeah. Fourteen. I think I even know the night.”

“Neat! Who were you thinking about? Was it that one ad for Dragon Knight III? Oh, no, it’d be the cast of Heaven’s Lost Property, I mean _duh_...no, wait, that wouldn’t even have been fanlated yet, I’m thinking of Full Moon Night...no? Right, fuck, didn’t see that till I came to the Hall, you never saw it. C’mon, I swear I can remember...”

I’ve heard a lot of things it’s weird to hear your sex partner say tonight. It’s getting kind of impressive how she can keep on upping the ante on that.

There’s a part of me that wants to let her keep going, but curiosity overcomes it.

“So then what? After your mind...soul...is built? How did you get that awesome body?”

“No, I wanna know, I wanna know what my shell was like.”

“Shell?”

“The seeds kind of...they’re like not quite any one place which is how they can be everywhere. Sometimes if there’s something that resonates they’ll settle into a piece of art...”

What? What’s that face about?

Oh. That face is so totally you remembering, giggle...

“...and then someone gets off to the art, and you implant. There was a picture of you on Youtube. And I...was fourteen...and it was late and I was horny and...holy fuck. I saw a picture of you, wings and tail and everything, climbing onto ‘my’ bed and reaching out and I tried to imagine, really imagine, what it'd be like to have you do that, and it _came true_ because I wanted you. Holy fuck. I am never being careful what I wish for ever again.”

Grin! “Hah! I love you too, Master. Yeah, that's how it works."

"So where do seeds come from? Are you like, a plant?"

"Hehe, sorta, I guess? I'll flower when I'm old enough to make seeds. It's different for everyone, but supposedly you just  **know**. And get super horny--" Heh, that face, I know, I know. "--like, relatively speaking. You get super horny and you find yourself thinking about the porn you could make with whoever - it can be any combination, so long as you've got at least one human and one succubus -- and then the seeds come out attached to the porn and shaped by who was involved and what kinda porn they made and you can get them through anything that's enough like it."

"Wait, so then like, potentially any piece of porn  _anywhere_  could have a succubus seed? So long as some succubus somewhere has made porn with their human that's  _kind of like it_?"  


"Yup!"

"Holy fuck...and it doesn't even matter what medium, yeah? You don't have to possess like a painting or something, right?”

“Yeah, at that stage of life we’re just...something waiting to happen. I studied this and it was kind of a mindfuck, but it’s like, the seed is in the thing all those copies are a copy of, that the original is also a copy of. Except, not even that, it’s like the image or story or whatever is the place you and the seed both go to meet. That's how you could find my shell on Youtube, it's just enough like it that you had the same-enough kind of fantasy from it to get me.”

“Should it worry me that that made perfect sense to me?”

“Cheryl said you’d get it if you’d had otaku friends.”

“Cheryl?”

“My best friend. Well, formerly, now that’s you. You know. You’ll meet her when we get down there.”

Point with my tail because being reminded I’m not human turns you on.

“I know. And cool, I can’t wait.” A freakish moment of trying to imagine the double date we'd have makes me think, and add: "I'm glad I was into girls."

"Huh?"

"So that I could get a succubus - you said it takes one human and one succubus to make seeds. Or do incubi work the same except for people who like boys?"

The arrangements of our fellow passengers stop me conflating orientation and sex before I start.

"What...oh, no, Master, Earth's mythology is messed up. Incubi are like unevolved succubi or something, instead of helping you they supposedly like just eat your soul or something. Most people think they're just a story, but of course everyone on Earth thinks succubi and them are the same thing and then everyone decides there must be no femme incubi or manly succubi because Earth is sexist. If you'd been into boys the seed-ghost would've made me one. We only have one sex, but it's 'succubus', not male or female."

This assembles with her earlier statement about flowering into:

"So then are you technically not a girl?"

Shrug?

But... _duh._ The curve of ass in my hand, the just-slick warmth of her cunt as my thumb drifts idly toward it around the globe of demon-flesh are... _flower petals._ Plumagemeant to guide her symbiote home and get him - or her, evidently, if my guesses about the crowd now are right - feeding her, not reproductive-fitness features.

Ooh shrugging is kinda like burrowing into your side shrug shrug.

"I mean, I like femme expression - bikinis and sparkles and stuff - and I love my tits and curves and cunt, but I do kinda just identify as a fucktoy. I promise not to care what you turn me into so long as you'll enjoy it."

A few beats pass as I try to absorb this, but she speaks before I can respond:

“So was the picture like **from** something? Am I an expy?”

Holy fucking fuck. How many fetishized fictional characters have I just walked past? Somewhere in _this very room_ , Draco is looking for his leather pants.

“Not that I know of. There was a deviantArt link, but it was busted. I would’ve tineyed you if I’d known...”

“Aww. Oh well.”

“Anyway. Body, how I got it, Master wants to know.” 

“Remember before how my wing didn’t really heal until you gave me all that cum? Energy’ll make a succubus heal a little, but we need human-nectar to actually build a body out of or fix really bad stuff...”

“That’s why you needed blood to fix your leg.”

“Yeah. Well, cum would’ve worked better, I was _trying_ for a blowjob or so...”

Oh. Yeah, huh. Seems somehow obvious now.

“I don’t think I could’ve focused even if I had figured that out.”

“Eh, don’t sell yourself short, you’re horny enough to attract me in the first place. So we need human-nectar to make a body out of, it’s not like directly made out of it but it’s...I dunno, gotta have some physical essence to work with, something that’s made of atoms but still means lust. They teach you how it works in school but I didn’t really get it, I kinda had some other stuff on my mind that day.” 

And every other day. But one thing at a time.

“So, when it’s time for a succubus to incarnate, their incubator gets either the mother of all sex dreams or the best wank session of their life. Well. Great sex in general, you don’t have to be alone, but obviously the seed-ghost isn’t going to try and incarnate you off nectar that’s already inside someone.”

“Holy fuck. I saw you. That was _real_.”

The memory’s been haunting me all night, from the moment I opened my eyes on her, fragments that somehow haven’t quite been able to assemble.

It really had been the mother of all sex dreams, an unexpectedly vivid (for my virginal self) tangle of warm flesh and wet lips and hungry hands and then at the end it had suddenly coalesced and I’d looked at the moment of orgasm into the eyes of a girl who’d wrapped herself around me in the absolute way only possible in dreams, her body against mine slick and wet and embracing with desperate hunger like she was made of pussy and I’d taken her wrists and pinned them to the bed so that she’d have to satisfy her hunger for touch by grinding against me and then whispered to her with the ragged breath of orgasm “I love you”, even as the climax slammed me awake..

And the sensation of her body around me had clung to me as I found myself awake in my bed, and I clung back, savoring the feeling, and then I heard, with my ears the actual physical soundwaves: “I love you too, Blue-Eyes.”

I’d _thought_ I was awake.

And I’d opened the eyes I’d been screwing shut to hang onto the dream state and _seen_ her, my silver-haired girl, skin grey in the twilight of my darkened room.

Head framed by forward-curving ram’s horns, bat wings pinned beneath her beside her wrists in my grasp, purple eyes glittering in the dim.

And then she vanished, because I _actually_ woke up, and the details of her appearance drained out of my head in the way dreams do when your conscious mind can’t hold onto them for whatever reason.

Or so I’ve told myself for the past year...what, year?

Oddly, I’d come as hard as I ever have in my life, an orgasm comparable to what I’ve had tonight with Lyra, but there was only a drop of come afterwards, something I’d written off as a biological oddity caused by the format of the dream, but that’s exactly wrong.

Why couldn’t I remember until now? How could I forget beauty like Lyra?

And then I’m distracted by the only thought that could knock that question out of my head: “Oh my god. Just now, on the raft, that wasn’t actually our first time, was it?”

She’d burst into existence in the exact position we were in in the dream. 

Making love.

Hehe!

“Nope, we took...alright, so philosophical question for you: if I materialized with your cock already inside me, does that count as taking my cherry, even though I never actually got to have one in the first place? Does that mean we took each other’s cherries?”

“Hah! Good question! But why did you leave? You disappeared as soon as you were born. Where did you go?”

“I know, slutshamer of an interruption, right? At least _you_ got to get off. I got yanked off before I could enjoy anything. Um. Figure of speech, sorry. I got summoned.”

“Who summoned you? Why? And how did you get back to me? Did you have to like...escape, or something?”

“It’s kind of a story.”  


“We literally have all eternity. Spill.”

Heh.

Oh, fuck, right. Time actually matters for the moment.

“That reminds me, captain lady before says we’re going to a part of the Hall I don’t know, but we’re gonna pass by the place where all my friends live and we can swim the distance. Do you mind? We could still get back from the dock, but it’d be days of walking through places where noone’s ever heard of Earth.”

Dust and spikes don’t look so interested in that idea! You really meant it, what you said about not missing Earth, huh.

It’s tempting, but no, I can kind of get that there’s going to be plenty to adjust to without jumping into the kind of total cultural vertigo I’ve just experienced with the captain, and I’d feel like an asshole separating Lyra from her friends.

Also, they might have some pants I could borrow.

“That’s fine. I’m pretty curious to meet your friends.” 

Which is actually true, and not just an interest in their excess wardrobes.

“Woo! Thank you, I wasn’t looking forward to more of a trip to get home.”

“Can we see it from here? Where we need to go?”

The hull thrums subsonically with our motion, and the occasional speck or bubble in the water zipping past the window shows us to be making incredible speed for a submarine of any kind, but the dark city ahead seems to have grown only marginally closer as we’ve talked.

“Just barely. See the little glowy fuzzy thing there, next to the row of all-different-color lights?”

She points with her free hand, to a spot almost straight a ahead of us, awkward with the position, but I get the idea.

“Yeah.”

“That’s Charybdis’ Breath, but everyone who lives near just calls it the Falls. We’re gonna go right by it and there’s an entrance we can swim to there.”

“What’re the lights?”

“That’s the Stained Hall. It’s where you go to play if you’re looking for an epic backdrop. We’ll get to check it out on the way home.”

Curiosity prods.

“Cool. Alright, storytime now.”

“Okay, okay. So like, I’m sure you noticed Earth’s kind of a warzone what with all the slutshaming and rape culture and perfekti. It's bad even for a lost planet, I mean most planets people at least know we exist even if it's not a proper preyworld. The past few hundred years, though, it's just insane, way worse than usual. So-”

One of my forgotten questions from before.

“Wait whoah. _Other planets_?”

Oh, right. “Yeah, there’s lots of planets with humans.”

“That’s...whoah. The captain or whoever she was. I’ve been trying to figure out where she’s from, but I can’t because she’s not from Earth at all.”

“Yup. Well, maybe, she’s pretty old for sure, she could be from someplace on Earth that doesn’t exist anymore, but another planet’s more likely.”

“Yeah...anyway, Earth.”  


“Yeah. So you get born instinctively knowing how to swim back to Pandemonium here, but...well. Can you imagine tonight with me also being two ges old?”

“Ges?”

“Sorry, right. Four minutes in a ges. Ish. Arithmetic.”

“So just in case you end up incubating someplace **really**  bad - which is likely, because the seeds go for loneliness - there’s this thing called the Vigil where when you dream up a pod of seeds you can go and set up a thing that’s kind of like a delayed summoning, tuned on the combined energy of you and the other parents so that when a seed incarnates it’ll get summoned back to Sade Hall or wherever where it’s safe and there’s people who can tell you what the fuck you are, once they figure it out. It’ll only kick off if you feel seriously unsafe in your first few watches - sorry, two hours in a watch - of life, but I guess I did.”

“It’d summon the incubator too, but consent, and summoning humans is kinda...yeah. The vigil’s not really anything but an emergency thing.”

“My moms set up a Vigil for me when I was conceived, and as soon as I was embodied the summoning tripped and brought me downstairs. “

Yes hug me hold on and don’t let go.

Again, that weird feeling like something terribly important’s gone sailing by, but there are much bigger fish to fry, as always.

Why did she feel unsafe, so quickly? I know why. Decision: that person no longer exists. Whatever it takes, that guy is dead. His morals gave Lyra and me the past year of bullshit.

“Did you know? What was going on? Did you think it was another dream?”

“The seed-ghost gives you enough that you won’t be too confused when you incarnate, or do anything stupid. I knew I’d been a fantasy and a character in somebody’s dreams and that I was about to become real and meet them. Felt like I was gonna go to heaven, and then, well...seeing you in your real body, having your actual cock in me, and then getting ripped away like that before you even finished cumming, fucking I don’t know what we would’ve done if I hadn’t been but it was not fun. At least I ended up downstairs, if I couldn’t have you.”

“Worst part of it, though, is how Viktor gives me dust for being literally a drop short of a load because of that notch in my ear and how I bitched about the vigil not even letting you finish let alone me.”

Succubi have the most amazing idioms.

“I think it’s cute, your notch. I was gonna ask you why it doesn’t regenerate...”

I reach around with my non-succubus-butt-occupied hand, wanting to trace the outline of the little semicircle.

Hehe, mmm, yeah pet my ear.

Hey, waitaminit, that’s the one with the notch, where’s the...where’s the notch?

Her soft fingers find mine, tracing the outline of the ear, and we laugh together, realizing, breaking down into silent paroxysms that we stifle as best we can that have as much to do with the residual tension of an entire night of near-deaths as they do with the actual joke.

Hah! “It’s gone! Fuck’s sake, I really was a drop short! I am gonna make Viktor feel _so bad_ for making fun of me!”

“It’s nice to laugh with you.”

Nod nod.

Wait. How did I not see it the minute she explained about incarnation and physical essence?

There are so many questions to ask, so many conclusions to draw, but this one blows them all away, somehow sums up the night perfectly.

“Holy...a drop short. Dreams. You’re _literally_ —”cli


	12. Such Stuff as Dreams

I can’t finish the sentence with either a straight or smirking face, but she gets where it’s going and grins a wicked grin, little black tongue pinched between her teeth.

“Was wondering when you’d get that. Whaddaya think, worth all those times waking up at the best part for?”

“Oh my _fuck_ yes.”

“So then what happened? After you got summoned?”

“I moped around missing you, mostly. This past year has been rapedust.”

“I’m sorry. Mine too.”

“It sounds like it. I wish we could have been together.”

“We’re together now. Anyway, you did more than mope, or we wouldn’t be. Tell me about it.”

“I suppose. I mean, don’t get me wrong. School was alright, you built me half out of Harry Potter fanfic and magical girlfriend anime and then I got to go _actual real magic school_ , so that was pretty badass, and obviously I met some cool people who really helped me figure myself out and kept me from starving, but oh my god all I could think about was getting you back. As soon as I had my heart together enough to realize that I shouldn’t listen to my friends telling me I should decide you’re dead and take up with someone from the Hall because Earth is daaaaangerous and I shouldn’t go back there, I spent all my pentacles on a bigass phial of porting ink and went looking for you.”

“I’m glad you found me.”

“It took some serious doing, lemme tell you. I tried for you and I ended up porting into an empty apartment. Ugh you have no _idea_ how bad I freaked. I almost went and fed myself to the nearest perfekti.”

“Jeez. I’m glad you kept looking!”

I squeeze her to me, judging - correctly, by her cooing response - that she’ll take being pulled into me by my hand on her ass more affectionate than a simple hug.

“I would’ve almost killed myself too, in that situation.”

That does need a hug.

Nuzzle nuzzle. Kind of nice I got you on a day you just shaved so that your cheek will...oh yes pet my head and be all comforting. Coo.

“Yeah. It sucked.”

The hug has by unspoken agreement turned into a full-on face-to-face embrace, and we stand there for a long moment, just clinging to each other. How many times have we come within a pixel of simply not happening?

“I love you.”

“I love you, Master.”

Even this moment is strange as I realize that she’s exactly the right height to tuck her head under my chin, and the geometry of her horns is just right to let her do this without jabbing anything bony or tender on me, and then wonder as she burrows her face into me as if I’m a blanket she can wrap herself in, if the seed-ghost did this for her, or for me, or for both of us.

Warm body on me, soft cheek nestled against me, curve of horn tucked into my chin, soft limbs around me, breasts a warm weight against my chest pointed with hardening nipples, enfolded in wings. Peace in...demonic form.

Her tail is so tight on my arm that my hand is throbbing, but in the situation this is good and right.

“It’s so cute how you hold onto me with your tail.”

Wha? Oh, heh. “Sorry, it kinda gets a mind of its own when I’m not paying attention.”

Mmmm hehe tickly finger down my back where my wing comes out, that feels good.

“No, I like it. It’s sweet. And it feels good.”

“I love to listen to your heart.” Humans are so magical.

Lost in the embrace, my hand has started to wander, tracing the outline of her wing, running my fingers along the velvetly limb that gives it shape as best I can reach, exploring. It’s like her tail, not intrinsically sexy in the way of her curves or dangerously seductive eyes, but still a living part of her, able to take pleasure in my touch and lovable because she’s lovable.

“I love this. I’m so glad you didn’t come out human.”

“I know. I tasted it when I kissed your tears away before.”

“You could taste that in my tears?”

“I guess the emotional energy gets into them like it does with cum. You were crying for relief and beauty and I was as much of the beauty as the Sea. You really...yeah.”

Fidget.

“Yeah. Wow. You are, you know. That beautiful. Or I might’ve let you keep the towel.”

Hehe.

“Thanks.”

Her cunt is warm through the towel where she nestles it against my leg. If I lost the towel and we were to shift around just so, we could...

Instead, the part of me that trades sleep or food for One More Episode pipes up: “Come sit. I wanna hear the rest of this story. How _did_ you find me? What happened? What’s porting ink?”

There’s a free pile of pillows against the hull near the window to which I lead us, and when we sit and Lyra settles herself into my lap I regret keeping the towel on.

“So, you ported into an empty apartment. Like, teleported? How does that work? Why didn’t we just port back out after you found me?”

“Fuck damn, if only. But no, you can’t port humans, and it takes most of a day to draw the circle for porting yourself all the way from the material plane to the True Sea. I blew half the bottle just getting _down_ there.”

“It’s um...basically it’s summoning yourself, but you draw the summoning circle with this stuff that’s made from shoggoth ink - they’re like, what’s the Earthling fish, tentacles, spews ink when it gets scared?”

“Squid?”

Shoggoth. It occurs to me that there may be some important parts of his life that aren’t included in H.P. Lovecraft’s wikipedia page. Who the hell comes here, and then goes back to Earth? 

It does explain a few things.

“Yeah, that, if squid were like fifty cubits long and _really ugly_. They spew ink when they’re scared or pissed off, but their ink kinda fucks with space so things will be in two places at once and stuff like that. You can use it to draw a summoning circle and make the circle show up someplace else, too, and if it’s a circle for summoning _you_ , well, bamf, you’re teleported. It’s complicated, though, because you have to draw the destination into the circle, _and_ you have to align on the stars so you won’t stay bound once you land, _and_...sorry, nerding out. I’m kinda into this stuff. Long story short, you can port around the same planet with a few drops per circle, but crossing planes takes like half a bottle and you might end up coming out like a week after you went in unless you get it just right. That’s also why you can’t port humans, only demons can be summoned.”

“No, it’s cool, I wanna hear all about it when I’m not wondering how you found me. There is a _reason_ you’re half made out of Harry Potter fics. So were you stuck, then? No way to port back.”

“Nah. I mean I was in Boston, the shore wasn’t far, and I think I had enough ink to port back even. I just...I was on a mission.”

“So what happened? Why’d you end up in an empty apartment? How _did_ you figure out where to find me?”

“Once I chilled out a little I figured out pretty quick that I was in your old room, I mean it freaking reeked of...well, it’s not a smell exactly, but the traces of your energy I guess you’d say. English kinda sucks at this sort of thing. Your energy was all over it. Instead of porting to a place, I’d tried to port to your energy so I’d just show up right on top of you wherever you were, but I think where I screwed up was that I didn’t have a physical focus - you’re supposed to have like a fingernail or a lock of hair or whatever - to nail down the targetting, and so I ended up going to the energy I remembered you having, which was us _together_ , not you on your own. I thought it’d be okay, I mean you’re my incubator, I can’t exactly forget you, but I guess you on your own must have been different enough that instead of you I ended up with the strongest...oh, fuck. Strongest memory of you and me fantasizing together. Which would be your old room. Yeah, it makes sense now.”

“I still just about gave up, because that meant I was gonna have to either figure out _where_ you were or how your energy had changed to get to you, which meant finding someplace you’d been since we were apart.”

“As for figuring out where to find you, I didn’t, I just started randomly porting around Earth and looking for you or hoping I’d catch a whiff of you or something. I knew you’d probably stay on the one continent, so that helped a little bit. Took me three months, and then I caught your scent your scent on a beach, I think it must have been near that town where the seraphim came after us, and it so happened that there were few enough perfekti around at the moment I could do a proper scrying and you so happened to be close enough for it to reach...well. I had to hang out there scrying for like a whole day before that sex dream you were having when I showed up gave you enough energy that the scry could find it.”

“Sade’s Balls you must have been horny, by the way, scrying for somebody’s energy without a focus that way usually only reaches a couple dozen aslu at most and that’s if you’ve got fresh ink and a summoner’s compass to draw the circle with, which I didn’t. That’s why I was so surprised when you freaked out over how far it was.”

“Aslu?”

“You know, hundred and twenty cubits. How far _was_ it, anyway? In the real world, that’s what matters, I know limbo’s weird.”

“Fifty miles.”

She gets the expression people get when I specify things in MKS units or ask how much something masses.

“Um. A cubit’s about this long, right?”

I indicate my forearm.

Nod nod.

“Well, more like that on me. You’re kind of big.”

Hold out my arm so you can see.

Quick and fuzzy mental math, her forearms are eigtheen inches or so, so 3500mumble cubits in a mile...

“Fifty miles is about 1500 aslu, give or take. I’m a little out of context for proper math.”

“Holy fuck, fifteen _hundred_? That’s...is that even possible? How does that work? Fuck, _did_ I almost melt when you made me glow back there? It felt like it.”

She’s looking at me with an intimidated respect, eyes wide.

“I’m guessing that’s...unusually unusual.”

“The furthest I’ve heard of for what I did is about two-fifty aslu, on a practice rock in the middle of deep space in a dead universe, with a machine-drawn circle and Chiron himself doing the scry. Fifteen hundred is completely fucking impossible, it’d be like you smelling my nectar from that far away. If it didn’t mean going back down there’d I’d be curious to figure out what happened, I mean you’re pleasingly horny and all but you still have to obey the laws of physics and there’s not ten thousand of you.”

_Do_ I have to obey the laws of physics? Nothing else is.

“Damn.”

“Yeah. I’m surprised the port wasn’t more of a ride than it was, actually, I drew the circle like I wasn’t going more than a dozen aslu _and_ I was kinda rushing. I _really_ didn’t think I’d set such a record.”

“Anyway after all that I had just enough ink left to port across the veil and land on top of you, so I did...well, okay, I’m being dramatic, I probably had enough left for a couple of scrys, I mean that one I did in the car hardly used any.”

“Scrying’s what you did with that spell to find the ocean. Yes?”

Magic. Spell. Sade’s balls, fuck English terminology.

“Yeah. You kinda...everything’s got energy, almost like, I dunno, like a song, you can listen to the song and figure out where it’s coming from if you name the thing right and have some porting ink to make space fuzzy.”

“In any case, though, thank you for going to the beach and getting super horny looking at all the naked humans recently, I never would have found you without the impression that left.”

“Galveston. It was the town where we met the angel.”

We’d gone to the beach, a few weeks ago, and it’d been a hot sunny day, and, well, bikinis were my very first fetish.

“How’d you avoid the perfekti that long? We couldn’t keep them out of our hair for five seconds.”

“It’s not so bad as Texas was everywhere, and if you’re a succubus or human by themself in limbo yeah they’ll hunt you but it’s nothing like the way they totally freak for a human and succubus together, which is what we saw. They also don’t seem to give a spike about places where humans don’t hang out, and they can’t get through veil on their own, so I did a lot of sleeping in empty woods and stuff like that, there’s still some places on Earth on the material plane where the miasma’s not so bad. I did still have a lot of close calls, though. I almost gave up like every single day. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. You didn’t give up. You found me in the end, and I’m really glad you did. Thank you.”

“I’m still surprised you didn’t wanna talk about whether to come here with me more. I thought I was gonna have to convince you. I thought we’d fuck in the limbo side of your room, maybe play some, and then talk it all out, but then there were perfekti, and...”

“I’d say fuck Earth, but Earth doesn’t deserve to get laid.”

Heh. Jeez, though. “Hey now, everyone deserves to get laid. It’s just...I don’t think we can get back easily anymore. Our trail’s gonna be cold by now, and I doubt we could find anyone else’s. That’s okay?”

“It’s _awesome_. I don’t _want_ to be able to get back.”

Not arguing. “Okay. So anyway, I ported into your room, landed in your bed, and woke you up, and here we mmf!”  


Yeah, here we are, on the ferry to Sade Hall, gently making out in a pile of pillows. Overrun with aftercare indeed, it’s about time the both of us had some.

How long does a kiss last? Long. No time at all. It’s a peaceful, comforting kiss, more than the sort that leads to sex, and when I release her, Lyra burrows into my chest, sighing contentedly, eyes shut: I can feel her eyelashes sweep closed against me, they’re so long.

It’s as if the kiss closes the book on a terrible chapter we both want behind us.

Burrow burrow snuggle hehe you smell like sex, yum. If I put my arms up so you can wrap them - yus. That's even better.

No past. No name. No mission. Only Lyra and what lies ahead beyond the window. For this one moment, I am utterly free.  


I sit there, holding her as if on guard, watchful but somehow totally at peace, for a long time or no time at all, listening to the quiet, just-not-rhythmic thud and periodic distant mechanical clunks of the engines, relaxing by trying to guess how they work from the sound, and finally the curiosity overcomes me.

Whispering, hopefully soft enough that she’ll sleep through it if she’s sleeping: “Hey.”

Remember to breathe in first this time. Sade’s Balls, is this what it’s like being with a partner you actually love? No wonder everyone’s so chill all the time.

“Hey.”

Inspiration: I’m her master. I can cut through all sorts of stupid by just giving an order.

“Go back to sleep if you were trying to sleep.”

“Nah, just bein’ comfy and safe. Kinda zoned out. What’s up?”

Fucking _hell_ when was the last time I felt safe like this? When was the last time I could just sit around and not pay attention? Even before I left for Earth I didn’t feel this way.

“Do you know what powers these ships? I can’t for the life of me figure out that engine note.”

Oh man, you are gonna _love_ this.

“Wanna go upstairs and see?”

I look at the top of the hull, curving above our heads.

“Um. Downstairs, you mean? But hell yes, if we’re allowed.”

“Nope, upstairs. C’mon!”

She climbs off my lap and rises, stretching mightily with a soft, happy squeak.

I follow, only registering how easy her impossibly low density makes holding her for hours as I get to my feet and find my legs uncramped.

“You keep using that word...”

“I _do_ seenk it means what I seenk it means. C’mon!”

Okay, these stairs had better not just go straight to the top deck.

At the bottom of the stairway is a leather curtain that Lyra’s trotting through, beyond which is a landing with another curtain and then we burst through into bright, incandescent-yellow light, and...the ship isn’t powered by engines.

I’ve just managed to seize her tail as she runs off, and it jerks in my hand as she keeps going not realizing that I’ve stopped just inside the curtain to gape over the railing.

This deck is much larger, with much more vertical walls, thanks to the ship’s cross-section, and is has at least a twenty foot ceiling. We’re on a small platform the size of a cramped stair landing, a bit of railing guarding the inboard edge.

“Careful, you! No dying!”

Nrf I’m coming back you don’t have to pull my tail!

No die...ooh. Oh you haven’t figured out...okay, sure. We’re probably not supposed to go down there anyway. I bet I can come up with a much more epic way to show you this little detail. 

Oh you poor thing, you really thought I was gonna fall! Okay, I’ll come back and hug you.

Hugged? Good. I turn back around in your arms so I can look too.

In the direction Lyra was running the platform curves downward until it’s a vertical wall: any further and she’d have gone sliding over the edge.

The main engine sound, really the only engine sound, to be heard since we started moving, has been a slow, ponderous thud that seems to move fore and aft through the structure, like pacing giants.

Because it _is_ giants, pacing fore and aft, pulling titanic oars that must be the inner ends of the ship’s wings along the deck - the same odd, poured stone as on the aftercare deck, though unadorned this time - at the bottom of the stairs. They're moving the oars in the complicated elliptical patterns that make the ship fly like a manta ray through the depth, and I can see two clearly, just over the railing:

Oh dude, a Golem! I’ve never actually met one, I wish we could talk.

Nearest us, an earth elemental, rough-cut from some dully gleaming, jade-colored stone. It’s naked, if clothing means anything to a creature of stone, and its head comes near to brushing the ceiling, and down the back of one shoulder is a complicated arrangement of Infernal writing and interlocked pentagram-ish circles that glows a pale green and seem to sort of center on or feed into a heavy, medieval-looking padlock that seems to uselessly bridge two metal hasps bolted into the creature’s stone flesh.

On the other side of the deck, are beauty and the beast, succubus style - they’d probably be horribly offended to be called so to their faces, but it’s the first thing I think of. The giant is mostly-human but for being epically muscular and something like fifteen feet tall, but his face is sort of kindly-beastial and his eyes glint yellow when he looks our way. He’s bare to the waist, and on his shoulders rides a laughing, gasping human girl, long blonde hair streaming as he rows, clinging to the band of canvas knotted around his head. Compared to his size, she looks like a tiny child, but a child wouldn’t have those proportions, or have thought to pull her sundress up so that it won’t be between her and her mount’s muscular shoulders, or be enjoying the ride in _quite_ the way she clearly is.  


The seed-ghost just makes what you _actually want_ , no matter what that means.

I got an anime demon girl for reasons that are probably deeper than watching a lot of hentai and having a complex relationship to religion but which I’ll leave there for now. But what if you feel small and vulnerable in the world and you want to be with someone who can _really_ protect you? What if, when you say you need your lover to be your rock, you’re being quite literal?

How much further can it go? You could fit all of rule 34 of the internet between Lyra and the stone giant, and I’m getting the idea that’s only the barest sliver.

Better whisper, don’t wanna disturb anyone’s scene. Still not sure if we’re supposed to be here or not. No warning, I guess that means it’s okay.

“Pretty cool, right?”

Now that I know to look, I notice the stone giant’s human leaning against the hull below our platform, an androgynous person in a garment like a sort of feminine tuxedo, feathers in their hair, tossing and twirling a big, ornate key as they watch the stone giant row. Beast has seen us and winked, but neither the golem nor his (its? Her?) (presumable) master have noticed our presence.

I whisper back: “Amazing.”

“You...your people...you can be absolutely anything.”

“Whatever your incubator’s into, that’s what you’ll be.”

“Wow.”

I’m straining to see what the rear rowers are like, but though I can see that they’re there, details are blocked by the ship’s life-support system, a massive bush or tree that’s been coaxed into growing downwards from the center of the ceiling, covering it and filling the unused space between the two sets of rowers. This is also the explanation for the lighting: brilliant white spotlights shine on the tree, presumably replacing the sun it will never see in here, from sconces dotted along the walls of the hull where the stone deck meets them, and the backscatter off the tree makes the room bright with a green tinge almost as of a forest at midday.

There’s a squeal and a giggle from across the room: the girl has fallen off only to be caught and set gently back in place by her lover’s massive hand, big enough to grip her around the middle like a doll.

“I’m getting those two, I think, but what’s up with the stone one?”

What _are_ they doing? That’s quite a mindfuck they’ve got going there, I’ve never seen holding one together with a physical lock like that. I wish they weren’t mid-scene so I could ask about it.

“Search me, you never really know. Probably we don’t actually understand the other two either, not really..there’s this saying, ‘someone else’s scene is poetry in a language you don’t speak’. Supposed to be a reminder not to make assumptions even if you think you’re picking up on the tone of something.”

“Huh. I kind of feel like we’re intruding on them.”

“Me too. Usually these places are set up as shows, it’s kind of an accomplishment being able to put together a family that can run a ferry, but I guess not tonight or not here. Wanna go?”

“Yeah.”

Transferring Lyra from resting in my arms to holding my hand as I turn and then casting a last look back at both her and the giants, I go to step through the curtain where I collide full-force with the still-naked captain who’s been bounding down the stairs.

«Whoah, sorry about that! There you two are.»

It is, I’ll admit, an enjoyable collision: her athletic-seeming body turns out to be softer and silkier than I’d judged from my glance in the airlock, and the impact wraps us around each other a bit so that she’s momentarily straddling one of my thighs and has to grab my upper arms to stabilize us both, smiling a smile I have no idea how to read while I snatch at my towel that’s been knocked loose.

I want to think she’s enjoyed this just as much - that’s what the smile _looks_ like - so that at least the equation will be balanced, but I know I’m not remotely in her league. I’ve come to terms with that with Lyra, who seems to have different motivations, but with another human it’s something else entirely.

Well, at least you both got something out of it. Since when are you such an opportunist, Master?

I don’t get this.

Back on our feet, she takes a moment to find her voice, before continuing with only the vaguest trace of awkwardness:

Omigod, she’s so embarrassed. It really was an accident.

Okay, I really need to chill. I’m standing on Rocks, the Hall’s right ahead, nothing bad is going to happen anymore.

«I came to say we’re just coming in range to really see the Hall, if you want to see it from the bridge where the view is good. Will you ask your Master for me?»

Okay, even I want to see that.

And you, my Master, are going to _love_ this.

«Thanks, that’d be awesome.»

“She wants to know if we’d like to come see the view from the bridge. We’re getting close now.”

“ _Hell_ yes.”

The captain seems to translate my enthusiasm and gestures to a curtained doorway the leads off the inboard side of the landing.

«This way.»

When she passes through the curtain, I turn to Lyra, and kissing the back of her hand I’m holding, whisper:

“You know I only have eyes for you, right?”

“Huh?”

Oh.

“I know that wasn’t on purpose. Anyway, you’re Master, it’s your choice who either of us plays with.”

Well, that’s a Thing. I suppose I should be used to not getting through any given conversation without a Thing, by this point.

The captain pokes her head back through the curtain to say something that is obviously to the effect of ‘you guys coming or what’, so we follow.

Omigod. Is that brilliant or obvious? Does every ferry have that? We _have_ to try it, there’s never gonna be a moment like this again.

«Awesome, right? There are preconsecrated elements in the locker by the foot of it, if you want to try it out and don’t mind the audience. Assuming you don’t have a thing with other people’s toys or whatever, sorry.»

Presconsecrated elements. Fuck but Master would be confused right now if he spoke Infernal.

«Generous! Thank you. He’s learning. Might use lots, is that okay?»

«Fuck ‘em hard. We have lots of fun doing the consecration rituals anyway.»

«How much time do we have?»

«Fern?»

Cute name for a cute pet who has a cute ass when he’s climbing over to touch the scry he needs.

«About a half watch, I think, Miss.»

Nod nod. Just enough to have some fun, but not enough for a real deep scene _and_ aftercare. Oh well. Motivation to get busy when we get inside.

Through this curtain is a nightvision-red-lit room, wedge-shaped by the shape of the hull, the sloping wall dominated by a huge window of whatever impossible material replaces glass here. It’s the same height as the ‘engine room’, and we’re again on a small platform ten-ish feet above the floor, surrounded on the two sides not against either the hull or the aft wall of the room by an ornate wooden railing, presumably the same green timber although the red light makes everything monochromatic.

«Wait wait, can I go first? He hasn’t figured out the Rocks yet.»

«Your scene, your way. Hurry, though, piloting makes my pet nervous.»

«Thank you.»

Lyra and the captain are having another Infernal exchange, but I’m too distracted by the view to make her translate.

At the other side of the ship, there’s another identical platform. Below us is...the bridge. Arrayed in the center of the floor of the room are two seats, raised at differing heights on a sort of platform. One, sitting higher, reclined as in an aerobatic or fighting aircraft, obviously the captain’s chair, faces foreward to look out the huge canopy, while to its immediate right there’s a more upright seat surrounded by a chaos of variously-sized stone or wood tablets, inscribed with diagrams like much more precise versions of the spell Lyra did to help us find the - Earth’s - ocean. Taut chains emerge from beneath the platform, running through rings against the floor or angling upwards to disappear into the side and rear walls of the room: control cables, Sade style. Of course they’re not going to use rope or spun steel when there’s chain, especially not when the arrangement makes the control platform seem to be suspended in a web of chains that cast looming shadows, backlit where the red lighting projects out from under the platform.

Occupying the captain’s chair is a male - excuse me, masculine-looking with wirily muscular limbs - succubus, relatively human looking but for the long goat’s horns curving back along his skull, pale hair, and skin of a shade that doesn’t reflect red light well. He’s dressed in a sleeveless uniform whose nature is obscured by the angle, and grips two levers like flight-sticks on either side of the captain’s chair, adjusting them fractionally now and then. Each time he does, the occasional mechanical sound I’ve been hearing and mistaken for the rest of the engine note sounds: it’s the working of whatever control surfaces this ship uses.

Cast haphazardly on the floor at the other side of the captain’s chair is a shimmery pile of delicate-looking fabric, presumably the captain’s outfit should a fit of modesty overtake her.

The pilot twists around in his seat, looks at the captain, and then throws a meaningful glance at the collection of what I assume to be scrying-panels around what must be his normal place. Of course: those are the ship’s instruments, and he can’t at the moment pay attention to them.

Perfect. Can’t believe I’m going to actually manage to work with your spaceship fetish. Now, don’t turn around yet, Master.

Climb climb.

“Maaaaster? Can I have a little snack?”

Her stage-whisper in my ear is breathy and lustful, drawing a smirk from the captain who clearly doesn’t need to understand the words to understand the intent.

“If you’re going ask like that, you sure...”

Mwaha.

“...can...”

It takes me a longish moment to find words again, but when I do:

“Artificial gravity is impossible.”


	13. Now I Can't Get Down

It’s one of those impossible-impossible things like faster than light travel where it seems like such a minor plot device in scifi, but just as going faster than light turns out to not only make time travel possible but just always _be_ time travel regardless of whether your ship is powered by warp drive or fairy magic, artificial gravity has the problem of mathematically speaking always ending up either creating a perpetual motion machine or requiring you to supply enough energy to lift all mass in the universe to its current distance from the new place it could in theory fall to.

Which is a serious problem, because Lyra is standing on what should be the wall at the back of the room, grinning at me.

“That’s okay. This is natural gravity.”

Best lines.

It’s actually far worse than an artificial gravity field: Lyra’s head is beside mine so she can whisper to me, close enough for us to kiss, but her hair drapes toward her feet and her tail dangles limply, trailing on the wall she’s standing on, while my sense of balance tells me I’m standing upright.

“Natural gravity.”

“Yeah, you know, from the Rocks.”

I point. See the Rock under your feet, and under mine?

“I’m on a different Rock, so I have different gravity.”

Behind her, I distantly notice the captain stride up the wall and around the railing to get ‘down’ to her chair below us. 

...below _me_ , in front of Lyra.

“That...what would happen if I touched you right now?”

“Well, if you touch me someplace good, I’ll get that snack...”

Mmmm hehe sideways kissing feels weird.

There’s nothing unusual in the kiss beyond the strange geometry and making out with a demon, so I pick up a lock of her hair, which dangles from my fingers toward Lyra’s ‘floor’, but when I release it and let my hand drop, it falls back to rest against her shoulder while my arm drops normally to my side.

What.

Sometimes, science trumps dignity, and I don’t have anything else that will make a good test object. Taking the towel from around my waist, I raise it to Lyra’s eye level, dangling from a finger towards my floor.

“Take this.”

She does, and when my hand breaks contact, the towel flops over hers as if dropped to hang toward her definition of down.

“That is not how gravity works! That’s not even how artificial gravity doesn’t work!”

Obviously we’ve left normal physics long behind, but this doesn’t even make _sense_ \- even if the spell powering this were infinitely powerful, it’d have to be fully sentient to decide what matter to pull where...and I don’t think this ship is alive in that way - it’s powered by giants rowing, it’s using iron chains for control, the windows might be made of impossible supermaterial but the rest is wood and metal. Something much weirder is going on here.

“Um...”

Ooh. Now I have your towel. Bwaha.

“How did you get up there?”

“Use the steps, see ‘em?”

Point point.

Where the wall joins the platform, there are a pair of angled panels, made like the floor and wall of more of that black rock, one maybe pi over six radi...no. Reality can have proper units back when it’s ready to start acting coherently again. The lower panel is about thirty degrees off of horizontal, the upper about thirty degrees off vertical. Stairs, from one gravity field to another.

I have to try them, but first, there’s a draft. Holding out my hand: “Towel.”

Mwhahaha, catch me if you can!

“Oi, get back here, you!”

Carefully, I tread the ‘stairs’, and the ship seems to rotate vertiginously around my center of mass as I step from one definition of down to the next, and then break into a run to follow Lyra as she dashes, giggling madly, for the ‘ceiling’.

I _can_ still be naughty. Wheee!

It’s not far up to where the wall joins the ‘top’ of the canopy, but Lyra has a head start because of my inexperience with the stairs and so I only catch her just as she reaches the canopy which is now for us a nearly-vertical wall. She raises the hand holding the towel as if she could lift it out of my reach, and we collide with the not-glass, one of my hands chasing the towel, the other reaching to grab her by the hip but ending up not unhappily with a handful of ass instead, my momentum driving her hips into the window with an impact that pushes a breathy ‘whoof’ out of her and then I’m closing my hand around her wrist and clutching her ass tightly and she melts in my hands, dropping the towel and grinding her body into mine as I settle my weight onto her.

There’s a navigational aid or the like etched into the unglass we’re leaning against, a circular diagram of some kind, but nothing is going to pull my eyes away from Lyra’s curves where she’s pinned against the window.

I’ve always uncomfortably enjoyed porn of girls tied up or otherwise helpless, but inflicting such on Lyra is...the difference between a candle and a supernova. How can it be that this makes her feel loved? Do I misread her reaction? Am I seeing what I want to see?

“Oooh...”

No, this is real.

“That was very naughty of you.” I’m trying to sound annoyed, but my voice wants to crack with laughter.

Unh yeah ow squeeze me show me what you’re made of...

“I guess you’ll have to...mmm...punish me, then.”

Man, it really took me all the way until now to be able to use that line? What a night.

Her mischief is too cute to really be angry at, but there’s still a sense of it being not quite right to just laugh this away, especially with the defiant smirk she’s twisting around to show me.

If she weren’t a monster, if it weren’t for the way she seduced me before, I might get hopelessly tangled in conflicting emotions (after all, if you put this matrix in row reduced form she’s just asking for reassurance of our relationship the way a normal lover would ask for a hug) or miss what’s going on entirely, but instead there’s an edge of demonic polyphony in her moan as I squeeze her ass roughly, and a fang peeks out of her smirk as this parts her lips.

You want to know who’s the Master here, do you? Easily arranged. It’s your ass on the line.

Releasing her cheek to take the base of her tail and reflecting that my monster-girl thing may be practical and not just aesthetic, I step back to pull her into a more bent-over position, still holding her hand against the window as I do.

God dammit tail pulling unf.

Yum...I so totally feel the captain’s eyes on us. 

“Do you know what you did wrong?”

“I...hehe...stole your towel OW!”

Whack. I try to make the spank playful more than punishing, in keeping with the mood.

“Are you going to be good now?”

After that weak sauce? Hell no. How uppity can I sound?

“Maaaaybe?”

The second, much harder spank draws harmonics into her gasp, as do the third and fourth. Satisfying.

Just the four blows, two for each cheek, seems right, but there’s still...something else needed.

“ _Now_ are you going to be a good...little femme for me?” The conversation in the car comes back to me, just in time.

Fuck damn ouch okay that was actually for real. Maybe I really should quit pushing buttons.

Well. Maybe.

Nod, nod.

You’re letting me free?

“Kneel.”

This should be interesting. Down at your feet, where you’re pointing.

“Tail.” This time I point to a spot beside my foot, and when she lays her tail there I rest my foot on it, keeping my weight on my heel but making sure it’s securely held in place by my arch. There’s a good length of it between her butt and my foot, but not enough to let her rise.

“Now, get the towel and put it back around me.”

“Yes, Master.” See, being good now. This little practice scene has been brought to you by the thoughts ‘I can’t wait until I can _really_ make you make me’ and ‘I need a spanking’.

I hope you didn’t want me keeping my hands to myself while I dress you, because putting my face like two inches from your cock that’s getting all hard from ordering me around isn’t going to make that happen...yeah, no, you’re liking this, huh. Yum.

It’s _so_ far to reach all the way around your waist, guess I’ll just have to nestle your thigh allll the way into my cleavage if I’m going to do up the towel on over there. Sigh, if only I’d thought to do it up on the near side instead, that would have taken so much less time and been much easier and less fidgety...

Heh. Yum tasty.

Maybe the towel needs just a little more adjusting...

Aww. Coo. Love you too, Master.

When she’s done making a meal out of dressing me, I take a horn and push her back down to sit on her heels, then bring her head to rest against my thigh where I can stroke her hair easily.

Held down by my tail and petted. I’ll give you this, you know how to make me feel owned.

Looking up at Master, Master looks hotter by the ges. Looking up past Master, captain-lady is smiling at us.

Nice view out the window. Nice view _on_ the window. I wanna play for reals, enough of the back-to-nature no-toys thing.

“Soooo, Master. Wanna learn how to summon and bind? We don’t have time for a real scene, but I think I can teach you the basic stuff, the captain offered to let us use her stuff so we can do things the quick and easy way. I bet we can get at least a couple practice runs in.”

Or you’ll jump me as soon as you see me tied up, that’d be fine too...

“I’m pretty sure I have the demon I’m mainly interested in right where I want her.” I put the briefest pulse of extra weight on her tail for emphasis.

Eeep! Omigod, I totally just squeaked like a cat getting hurt or something. Way to scare a femme, you’re heavy you know!

Umum. Composure. I was saying a thing that was gonna get me some good play, what was it? Right.

“Don’t miss that ‘and bind’ part.”

The diagram on the glass, something about it...

I look up from the vista of Lyra’s gaze to take in the etchings properly, and the obviousness nearly knocks me on my ass.

It’s a pentagram, diameter somewhere around eight feet, etched into the window, complete with Infernal text filling the double-circled perimeter and a halo of inscrutable magic symbols around the outside.

“You use pentagrams to summon demons. Of course that’s for real, duh.”

How distracted was I to not work this all out the very first time she gave the slightest indication of kinkiness?

“...and then bind them in place and control them.”

Her response is the wicked grin she’s so very good at.

“Which you think is totally kinky. I can’t _believe_ I didn’t see this right away.”

“Wait, isn’t that why your god supposedly has such a problem with these?”

“I don’t think...never mind. What does it feel like? Does it hurt you?”

“Oh my god so comfy. It’s like floating in water, except all secure feeling. You have to be cool with feeling helpless, though, because there’s no wiggling out the way you can do with restraints and a lot of patience sometimes.”

“Not that, um, that’s the voice of experience or anything.”

“Heh. What does happen when you struggle?”

“It’s like...heavier gravity back to where I should be, the further I move from it. Usually I can move my head enough to make out, but not much else.”

“What about if I pulled on you?”

“The gravity moves, pulls me along with it. It’d be your binding, it won’t resist you, but if you pull far enough the binding breaks. Come on, let’s try, you know you want to.”

“Hell yeah I do. How does it work?”

“We need some stuff from the chest thing over there. Let me go and I’ll fetch it?”

I’m guessing the weight off my tail is your response. Poing!

The ‘chest thing’ in question is a long, low iron-bound box sitting against the wall. True to form, Lyra makes sure I get a nice show, bending over instead of kneeling, tail raised in a question-mark shape, as she searches for what’s needed.

Sheesh, knife play much? No, wait, like half of those are actually dildos. Silver or steel? Eek, is that copper? Better be careful, can’t tell in this light. Other people’s toyboxes...

Aha. Right? Yes. 

Now, brush? Oh, strapped to the lid. Okay. Wait, fuck, cleanup rag! There, now we have everything.

Playing. Puts! A spring. In my! Step bounce bounce bounce.

I’ve been gone way too long.

Straightening, she struts back with a star-shaped box stacked on a ragged-but-clean piece of cloth and a long thin object in her hands, having clearly taken my instruction before about giving a show to heart as a general rule, and kneels to present them to me.

Feels weird. Is this my style? What the fuck even is my style? Usually the people I play with just kind of stash me someplace while they get everything ready, or have specific tasks for me.

Yes, take the elements, there you go.

Well, slutty and scenic is me. I can pose while I talk, that’s kind of subby, right?

When I take the box and brush and cloth from her, she leans against the pentagram, arms folded behind her to arch her back, wings half spread, hips cocked, expression sort of awkwardly mischievous, lights of Sade Hall arrayed behind her, and in this moment I decide it’s very good for me that we’re going to a place that almost certainly doesn’t have Internet, because I have to dismiss an impulse to add the image to my deviantART favorites.

It’s still a tableaux I’m going to remember for a long, long time.

You’re smirking about more than what you’re about to do to me.

“What’s funny?”

“Irony. I grew up on fantasy and scifi but I always had to prove to my parents that the magic in them was either morally neutral or some kind of Christian allegory, because they were always suspicious that it was going to end up being _this exact thing_.”

“Heh.”

And now we’ll both be glad I’m such a sorcery nerd, because unlike so many subs I actually know how to do this well enough to teach it. It’s not going to make teaching and bottoming at the same time any less weird, but at least we can do it.

“So, demon summoning, the short-short, short-short, your playmate is horny and impatient version. This is just like with the sword ritual, except it’s this time it’s all your soul powering it because we’re being explicit about who’s the top and I can’t do a lot to help drive the ritual if it’s supposed to be about dominating me. So, you have to understand how this works, same reason again.”

“All a pentagram _actually_ does is focus and contain energy. You can do a lot of stuff with that, but focusing and containing _my_ energy is the most fun thing. So, Spirit, Earth, Water, Air, Fire. Each point of the star has an element associated, see the symbols at each point? Those are the elements I’m made of, physically, so that binds my body. With me so far?”

She gestures to each one as she names it, indicating four triangular symbols between the rings, and then a circle above the top point of the star like a tiny halo.

“I know the other four, but Spirit’s new to me.”

“Water makes stuff soft and wet, Fire makes it warm, Spirit makes it alive. You get the idea.”

“Yeah.”

“Now, the thing about Spirit is that there’s lots of kinds. Every demon’s a mix, but generally we have one that’s like, the foundation. When you call someone a ‘spirit of’ something, this is what you’re talking about. I’m a spirit of Lust, that’s what it means to be a succubus, but lust is _really complicated_ , which is why I’m sentient, if I was an animal like that cacodemon we saw, I’d take one taste of you and it’d tear me to bits.”

“But that also means there’s a lot of different kinds of spirit of lust. It’s ruled by four...no, bad way to put things. Alright, so you know that thing in books where you have the big giant coming of age ceremony and get assigned a label that’ll define you for the rest of your life?”

So help me god, if there’s a hat downstairs that analyzes my sexual preferences, I’m...

Alright, let’s be honest. I’m so totally trying that shit out.

“Yeah...”

“It’s the exact opposite of that. The gods are like the elements, everybody’s a mixture of all of them, people change over time, et cetera, though usually you have one anchor that stays around. You and me are probably always gonna be mostly Sade, for example, which is why we’re headed for Sade Hall instead of one of the other Homes.”

“Wait, me?”

“It’s a way of talking about what your soul is like. Doesn’t matter if it’s a human or succubus soul.”

“So, four gods of lust. These are their names and titles here, and these are going to be horrible explanations that leave a ton of stuff out but should be good enough to let you summon me.”

No, I totally don’t _need_ to turn around and get on tiptoe point at the two on top, but that’s not going to stop me. We are trying to set a mood here, and you do so love my butt.

“This says ‘Lilith the Seducer’. Lilith is like...well, ve’s where the whole ‘you know you want to’ thing comes from. Think equal parts raver and that fantasy everyone has at some point with lots of sexy naked people chilling out in a really lush jungle, but also the fantasy with the person who’s so hot you can’t handle it trying to entice you into fucking them and you’re going with it despite yourself because they’re just _that good_. You’re not supposed to because they’re just concepts and not like, alive, but I might have got a little desperate and said a little prayer to Lilith right before you kissed me that first time.”

“Sade the Wicked. But it’s not wicked as in evil, it’s wicked as in when you see someone pull off something totally badass in a porn and you’re like ‘ _wicked_ ’. Sade’s one of the most complicated, but I’m Sade, you’re Sade, this one I think you kinda feel, unless I waay misconstrued our scene on the raft up there.”

We’re the beautiful monsters. Even now, I’m not sure I’m okay with how much I like that idea.

“Venus the Thoughtful. Thoughtful as in when somebody gives you a present you didn’t even know you wanted but you totally did and you’re like ‘aw, how thoughtful’. Hearts and flowers and...I dunno, nice? Lovey? But also kind of hardcore in its way. Promises of undying love and stuff like that.”

“Valkyr the Strong. Ve’s basically the god of badass. Um. Courage and stuff—”

‘Ve’ again, she’s not misspeaking. Presumably a way of patching gender-neutral pronouns into English? Gods have the tendency to transcend categories.

“Is that where Valkyries in Norse mythology come from?”

“Holy fuck, do _not_ mention the Viking age around a Valkyr, you’ll never hear the end of it, they have it as bad with warmonger stereotypes on lost planets as we do with being evil.”

“So the names in the ring, you use those to bind my soul. Have to have both body and soul to actually nail me down here.”

As she points to each one in turn, I realize that the text in the circle is actually four phrases separated separated by the triangular symbols at each point of the star, and at the bottom of the pentagram there’s a blank space between the circles.

“What’s with...”

“The space down here?” Point.

Okay I’m having way too much fun bouncing around and posing and bending over and stuff. I hope this looks sexy and not ridiculous. Or at least sexy _and_ ridiculous.

She has to toss her head cutely to get her hair out of her face when she straightens, and somehow manages to bounce her breasts just a little doing it.

“This is for _my_ name, or title if I didn’t have a name, because targeting is life and death. What’s that random chat thing that we found out has no girls on it that one night? Omegle? Yeah. Imagine if connecting to somebody on that meant they showed up in your room. So you always want to know _who_ you’re summoning. Fortunately, I’m a succubus, which means I have a body and you can use a piece of me to make sure you definitely get _me_ , but we should still use my name too, it’ll give that little more pull.”

“No, relax, stuff like nectar or a lock of hair or a horn shaving. Except I’m going to be all hardcore and suggest you use some of my ichor, that’ll give you the strongest pull your first time.”

“So, there’s your metaphysics lesson. Ready to learn how to actually do this?”

“Oh yes.”

“Alright, so then this is the part where I tell you the incantations in Harry Potter actually make sense.”

“Yeah, they’re all hacked up Latin. Wait, what?”

“Heh. They are, but, think about why. ‘Expecto Patronum’, you have to go look the words up to really know and yet it kinda feels like you know what the spell’s going to be as soon as you hear the words, because there’s so much of Latin in English, but it’s like...those words are really old symbols that’ve been with you your whole life, they have meaning that’s deep down inside you, but not bright and sharp like words you use everyday. It’s like they’re in the dark and that makes them powerful because they mean something to _you_ , but not something fixed. They just...focus you a certain way, which is exactly what we need here.”

“You’re making it sound like I’m going to actually end up _saying_ ‘Expecto Patronum’ shortly.”

“It’d probably work, honestly. Aren’t I pretty much your happy thought?”

Aw! I was joking but that face says you aren’t.

“That’s the thing about all this ritual stuff, it’s not like a machine. You can’t just go through the motions and have it work. It’s like...it’s kinda like we’re trying to mindfuck reality itself. It’s all about the energy, the like, mood, we create and what we do with it, and what we communicate by what we’re doing. As long as the meaning’s there things aren’t going to fuck up if you don’t say exactly the right words and there’s a ton of room for putting your own style, which is good because you want to do this the way that feels meaningful to you. The more you make it your own the stronger it’ll be, remember that.”

By which I mean, invoke lots of nice domly energy. But if I say that to you right now, it’ll just make it harder for you, because you’ll be trying to do it for _me_ instead of because that’s your way. Nrgh, communication! There’s got to be a non-sideways way of asking for this.

“So, open up the box of elements there, let’s see what we’ve got to work with.”

Ugh, listen to me, who’s topping this? It’s just, I know what I’m doing...

Right, there’s a box in my hands. It’s star-shaped, five-pointed, and made of polished metal, a masculine and well-hung figure embossed into the lid, spread-eagled in the way I suppose Lyra is about to be against the window. It takes me a second to get that the lid is actually five lids, one for each point, that open outward from a hinge at the point, leaving the center pentagon closed: it has its own lid, a hinged circle just large enough for a finger.

Lyra slinks over to peer into the box as I open each panel.

“So, what have we got, let me see?”

Nice ‘n warm, definitely consecrated. Good energy, yum.

“Oh wow, actual Spirit. Fancy. So, five points, five elements, right? See the symbols on the inside of the lids?”

Wait, gold dust? Boo. Candles are so much better, you can get a little wax play in and it looks so badass dripped on the altar. Weird choice, she’s clearly not a cheapskate, maybe it means something to her even if it is just stonesinger practice?

The box is thick, made of a metal that’s solid but light like titanium, and the insides of the lids are shallow dishes, each embossed with the corresponding elemental symbol.

“These are physical representations of the spritiual elements. Looks we’ve got some literal Earth, probably from the Grove downstairs, the water there will be purified Sea water, that’s going to be gold dust for the Fire unless it’s copper dust in which case yikes, the streaky-shiny stuff here will be quicksilver mixed with something that’ll make it actually stick to what you’re trying to anoint with it, that’s the “Air”, and then this up at the top is Spirit distilled from the Sea. And the middle is ink for writing my name. They’re all consecrated for this, I can feel the warmth, so you’ve already got some pretty strong energy to start the fire with.”

“Isn’t that dangerous for you? Is it not like the sword?”

Oh, hey. Useful. Mwaha...

“So um, you know how in Evangelion, they were trying to merge a human with Adam, and instead they ended up with Second Impact?”

“Yeah...oh.”

“Yeah. Our own personal version of that. You’re not supposed to be able to _see_ consecration energy that way, I really don’t know what happened, I wanna show it to somebody who knows more than I do when we get a chance. Anyway, it’s a different energy, the sword’s a weapon, these are just for binding. Even if they were as powerful as the sword, they wouldn’t harm me like it did, though I suppose you should be ready for me to be bound so tight I can’t even talk or something. You seem to be pretty strong at this stuff.”

There, if that doesn’t give you the confidence, nothing’s going to.

“Okay, so. Five elements, five points, four limbs and a head. See where this is going?”

“Yeah. No wings or tail?”

“Apparently not. It doesn’t look like the captain’s pet up there has either, I’m guessing this is usually for vim, so it’s a pentagram instead of an octagram. It’s just as well, you have to double up on some of the elements and it gets confusing if you’re new.”

“So they’ll be left free.”

“Yeah. Don’t worry, it’s not like there’s gonna be buckles I can undo with my barb, not that I’ve ever tried that, nosiree.”

Grin.

“So there’s three big parts to this: first, you need to turn the pentagram from some lines on glass into a piece of bondage gear, which you do by anointing it with the elements, same element on same symbol. Those are mixing dishes on the lids, when we cut me I’ll drip a little ichor in each one and you can mix the element with it before you paint it on.”

You need, you can. Subby phrasing, so subtle but so matters. I’m glad illiterate girls bore you so, it’s making this a lot easier to pull off.

“Do you get what I mean when I say that what matters is your intent, and that the anointing and all that stuff is a way of taking that intent out of your head and putting it into reality? Like we did with the sword? That’s why there’s not particular magic words, it’s just like there’s a billion different ways for you to tell me to fuck you. You _intend_ to use these lines to tie me up, and you’re making that intent real.”

“Yeah, I think I grok it.”

“Good. Next, you do what’s called taking hold, which is the tricky part, because it’s two things at once that you can’t really do separately.”

“One, you anoint me with elements, one for each point, same as the pentagram. When we do it, I’ll kneel down so you can do my palms and soles.”

There’s enough of that pose in your konachan favorites that I’ll let you figure out the connection from needing access to both palms and soles.

I wish I could just hand you an iconography sampler. Is there a way to communicate this so you’ll be coming up with the idea on your own, instead of following instructions? That’ll help so much, if I can just...eh, nothing for it.

“You’re trying to make a connection between me and the pentagram, and getting me ready to be bound.”

“Two, you’re getting hold of me in your mind, finding what’s _me_ in all the craziness of reality. It’s like...so, you know how people kind of make a room different when they’re there? Like their presence kind of feels like something? It’s like that. The way I smell, the way I sound and feel, the way my being there makes you feel. When you say you miss someone but it’s not because you miss talking to them or fucking them, just miss them being there, that thing. Feel it. Feel it like I’m right there, and then feel it like I’m right there and you’re holding me down. Except I _am_ right here, so we can supercheat and you can do that while you’re all close to me anointing me, and the act of anointing will be a physical expression of what you’re doing in your head so it’ll be even stronger.”

“Okay. I think I get it.”

“Oh, crap, there’s an order! I’m sorry, Master, I almost forgot. When you anoint the pentagram, and then me, too, go widdershins around the star, starting and ending with water, because I’m Sade and Sade’s the water god.”

“Counterclockwise.”

“Yeah, that.”

“Okay. Then what?”

“Then, the fun part, the evocation. You’ve gotta keep hold of that sense of me, and then while you’re holding onto it, invoke the elements - like ‘by the fire of burnination’ or whatever, except actually dramatic instead of lame - and then invoke the gods, the same way. You can do whatever order except remember the counterclockwise star starting and ending on water for the physical elements, but then at the end you invoke me by name and tell me you summon and bind me. You’ll probably wanna make a thing of it in whatever way makes you feel impressive, you _are_ technically telling reality to shut up and obey. Usually people do stuff like raise their arms, or use the brush to splatter some ink or ichor on the pentagram as punctuation, or whatever. Slapping the circles is popular, if you’re feeling violent. That sort of thing.”

“Give it a good hard mental push right at the end and there I should be, nice and helpless.”

Invoke the elements, and try very, very hard not to think of Captain Planet...

“Then how do I get you down?”

“If you just pull me off, you ought to be able to break your own binding pretty easily, even if I can’t even blink. Failing that, usually...”

Aha.

“Yeah, here. See how there’s a break in the circles that’s filled in with ink right here? Erase the ink - it should wipe off with your finger - and you break the circle, which does the same thing as it did when you broke the circle after we consecrated the sword. Kind of mean, but useful if the ship is crashing or whatever.”

“Emergency release, got it. So is that everything?”

“Well, we’re missing the sexy way to get me down.”

“Do tell.”

“It’s um...ugh. Spiritual stuff is so hard to describe in English. It’s called a Dismissal. Basically, you tell me I’m freed from the physical bondage to please you or serve you or some such thing, some kinda purpose, and make a gesture that’s like getting me down or means something like that - it’s like the rest, just pick something that feels right. Or instead of the purpose you can try something that’s like, you’re letting me free on a condition, like exchanging the bondage for some other constraint. Infernal lets you screw around with the order a lot more because conditional verb markers but in English it helps to put the condition first so you can end on something like ‘you are released’ so that it’s more, like, definite-sounding. It’s like, you let me off the pentagram, but the energy of the binding is still wrapped around me, and the meaning you give to the dismissal forms it some. It doesn’t stay long without any kind of structure to keep it around, but for a few seconds or minutes you’ll...hm. ”

“That thing, the feeling of me from when you were Taking Hold, reach for that and you’ll probably find...I dunno, something more? I’ve never topped, so I don’t know how to describe the way it feels, but that’s what people say. It’s like, something you can hold onto or do something with, you’ll get an idea of what it is and you can use it to do something or another to me. It’s really variable because you’re just letting the energy kind of do whatever so even the same people saying the same words don’t usually get the same thing every time because stuff always means something a little different every time when you get this close to poetry, but...yeah. The surprise is kind of part of the fun, just don’t expect it to be remotely literal to what you said.”

“Thing, though - the simpler the words, the more powerful the dismissal. It’s like...think of smoke. You can push it around but you can’t draw a picture, and the more you try the thinner it gets. It’s like that.”

That’s...sounds amazing, really. Must try.

“Can it be dangerous?”

“Nah, you can’t really focus enough energy to harm somebody unless you’ve got something to contain it, _and_ unless you’ve got superpowers I don’t know about there won’t be any much energy coming from the scene itself - the energy you create playing with me figures in too - because we don’t really have time to do much past practicing the ritual. You might make me fall on my face or something, but that’s not as big a deal for me as it’d be with a human bottom, and whatever it is isn’t going to be a lasting change or anything. Especially with this circle, see how the element symbols are doubled up, extra ones outside the circle? It’d be really hard to do anything to my head with this, it’s only for tying down a body. I’m guessing either the co-pilot or captain up there have some kinda limit with mindfuckery and this makes them feel better.”

“Cool. So now is that it?”

I’m already thinking of interesting dismissals.

“One last thing.”

Okay. Focus. Collect thoughts. Know what I’m saying. I’m making a Very Important Point, not just using a pet name. Gather strength and...

“Try to remember you’re not in church, Altar Boy. Unlike that, this is supposed to be fun, and you’re _supposed_ to be creative with it. The more you do that, the better it’s going to work, so go for broke.”

There. Sheesh. Still like trying to balance on a lubed-up rock.

Altar Boy. No, not anymore. I’m something different now.

It’s like all the rest of her seductions, barefaced manipulation that’s no less effective for the obviousness.

I’m something different now and I am going to have some _fun_ with this.

“Oh, wait, one more one more thing. If you want extra-easy, you can make me stand against the pentagram after you anoint me so that the first time you’ll only have to stick me down. Up to you, some people find it easier, some don’t.”

“There. Now we’re ready for real. Do you remember everything?”

Yeah, yeah, give me the dubious eye waiting for me to remember one more one more thing all you want, I’m not going to, because we’re done.

To both our amazement, I’m able to rattle off both the ritual and mythological lesson with only very minor corrections, a skill I’m undecidedly proud or embarrassed to admit comes from doing programming tutorials on a computer that was slow enough to make switching between web browser and development environment painful.

Try to set as subby a tone as I can after all that, awkward as it may sound.

“Okay, I’m ready, Master.”

Which is pretty awkward. I need like, style lessons or something. Thank Sade I can be sure you won’t want me all polite like Mintie. Who’d have thought you’d actually get off on a femme swearing?

“Are we going to cut me, or am I biting myself?”

Cut...oh. The opposite end of the brush is a knife, a scalpel-like blade I’ve somehow managed not to cut myself with while holding the box, but I’m iffy on my ability to cut without cutting dangerously deep, and I’ve seen that Lyra knows how to use her fangs safely.

There’s an anticipation between us, dangerous and exhilarating, as she waits for my answer, and I let it linger, feeling the moment, and then pull her face to mine by way of a horn and kiss her gently.

“Bite your hand and give me some ichor.”

Munchouch!

Water, Air, Fire, Spirit, Earth. There, five elements, five nice blobs of ichor.

“Kneel.”

Yep, called it. Sit on my heels, palms up on my thighs, wouldn’t be much of a first night without ending up in the standard slave pose at some point. Nice touch, leaving me like this while you do up the pentagram.

Water, Air, Fire, Spirit, Earth. Just painting over the symbols, well, good. Basic but classic. I suppose a spoken collect would make you think of church too much, more’s the pity...

I should probably stop picking apart my Master’s technique while we’re doing a scene that’s affected by my emotional state quite so much as a first summoning. He’s not being unsafe, that’s enough.

This time.

Dip the brush in an element, dip it in ichor, twirl to mix, clean it in the rag after each element. The mercury (it’s weird not to fear it, but if nectar can do something as fiddly as fixing carpal I’m sure it can handle a little heavy-metal poisoning) and gold glitter in the brush’s wake, but the other elements vanish into the dim.

At the end, Lyra’s name in ink mixed with ichor, looking awkward in my unsteady hand at the bottom of the pentagram, English text sticking out against the elegant Infernal script. The beginning is the worst, like the capital ‘L’ doesn’t want to be drawn there.

Now, Taking Hold.

“Hands behind your back, and bend over a little. More.”

OMG, the pic with the pink leather bondage gear. God damn I had no idea how much I’d missed being her. Let’s see, there were cuffs on my upper arms too, and my arms were cuffed folded behind me, not just back there, do I have to be a skinny hentai girl to make that work? Oof...nope! Go Sade superpowers. She had the cutest fists but for this you’re going to want my palms out.

And by bend over, you mean far enough to be asking for an ass-fucking. Yes _Master_.

It takes me a moment to realize where I’ve seen the pose she strikes and why I’ve asked for it, and another moment to for the slow-motion thunderbolt of what it means that she remembers the image before I do to hit me: I’ve had the pieces, and the guide to their assembly, but been too distracted to assemble them.

What might the past five years have been, if I’d known? If I’d understood what I was feeling in those times, those certain images or fantasies that seemed to burn like stars and haunt me even through the following day? Could we have made contact?

“You remember.”

This totally pins my wings, too, I wouldn’t even need wing binders. It’s always kind of sexy feeling like I _am_ a knot and not just held by them.

“Happy thoughts. This was one of my favorites. I miss the gag.”

And the dildo you’d always decide I had strapped into me to make me drip like that.

She remembers _fondly_. Of all the uncomfortable-looking things about BDSM, I’d always assumed that gags were entirely for the benefit of doms. But then, Lyra is...atypical.

Instead of putting my foot in my mouth by any possible reply, I respond with a kiss to the top of her head, and then move behind her to her feet and upturned palms, almost starting the star of elements in the wrong direction before I remember she’s facing away from me.

For some style, I finger-paint (it seems wrong not to touch her directly for this) a crude version of each element’s corresponding symbol, using the box as a reference, rather than just smearing some of it onto her.

Pale grey skin. Maddening, flowers-of-lust scent.

Okay, that’s kind of soothing even with how hard it is to hold this position without actually being tied up. It’s almost enough to...ooh.

Something’s taking hold in my manner around her during these times: instead of walking around in front of her, I realize I can pull her head back gently by her hair, just enough to reach to draw the circle of Spirit on her forehead. She makes the dominant gesture worth my while, exhaling soft pleasure and arching her superhumanly flexible back rather than lowering her hips as I pull, eyes rolled back to peer at me. 

Kindness. Wicked smirk. Breasts I could drown in...

You look so beautiful when you’re concentrating on me. I wish I could watch you anoint me.

A presence of contradictions, beautiful and monstrous, brilliant and vulgar, softly submissive but never demure.

And my entire adolescence, a warm, lusty presence haunting my dreams. I have hold.

The image she’s mimicking haunts my mind - from this angle her proportions are so like that of the improbable girl it had depicted. I’m reaching through her hair for the collar that encircled her neck in the image before I realize what I’m doing...and almost cry out loud when my hand finds leather anyway: the thin strap of her necklace.

Collars collars wait until you get a collar on me, yum...

Very well. I tug gently, and she takes the hint silently, straightening and rising as I continue pulling, and following deftly as I shift my grip and place her against the pentagram, the pendant jabbing into my palm, warm with the heat of our bodies and somehow paradoxically comforting in the way its point digs into my flesh, reassuringly, unavoidably _there_.

Oooh, that’s a different sort of flavor. That’s...huh, I thought you had to be succubus to feel the amulet’s consecration. Maybe part of you knows what it’s about and you feel that somehow?

Bump. That’ll be the pentagram, then. Arms out, spread legs a little, good.

Okay, here we go.

Now how do I make a thing of this? I’m not, on the whole, given to the sort of theatrics that’d be appropriate here, and it’s further hard to come up with anything that doesn’t make me feel like I’m in danger of becoming that certain less savory brand of LaRPer...though, in my defense, they aren’t aboard dirty-old-but-superhot-woman-Charon’s ferry on the way to sexy hell and they don’t have any _actual_ demons to summon when they’re doing this sort of thing and they didn’t just anoint their lover’s head with stuff that based on how it acted and felt on my finger is almost certainly not made of atoms.

I wish I’d planned, but I have this ugly habit of forcing myself into Indy Ploy situations when I’m uncomfortable.

No time. Let’s go with quiet and intense, that’s me. Taking up the box of elements from where I’ve set it, I take a finger dipped in each element and then the dishes of Lyra’s ichor, underlining the symbols of the elements as I name them, falling into a stilted poetry as I go:

“By the Water of all Seas.”

“By the Winds that carry us across them.”

“By the Fire of stars and hearths.”

“By her Spirit, pure and nasty.”

Hah! Nice. Grin. 

“By the Earth on which we stand, rocks in the Water.”

Oh, well played closing the star that way, you noticed that the Rocks are technically Earth, cute...goddammit, critiquing again. I was starting to fall into subspace a little, too.

“By Lilith, the Seducer.” In my mind, a vast endless garden, a pandemonium of orgies and dances. There’s a flaming sword that turns every which way, but the only people it’s keeping out are the moral guardians.

Maybe this should be more of a sticking point for me, but there’s a strange satisfaction in crossing this supposed moral event horizon and finding it to look different from the other side just like all the others. These aren’t gods you worship or serve, which is good, because I’m starting to see as we move so literally away from it that I was never particularly good at either of those things. Kneeling is, simply - the metaphor is unavoidable in this situation, but still mind-breaking - not my kink. These gods are just...true.

“By Valkyr, the Strong.” Valkyries, Valhalla, straight from the myths, I can’t imagine it needing or wanting to change to join this pantheon.

“By Venus, the Thoughtful.” Of all things, an anime fanart that scrolled by once on my tumblr and lodged in my head and harddrive: an angelic girl standing in front of a sunset, the sun outlining her body through her flimsy nightie, white-feathered wings spread wide, her face a perfectly captured, sweet and innocent “I’m going to fuck you so meaningfully you’ll forget your name” smile.

“And by Sade, the Wicked.” Lyra. And so much more I can’t begin to do justice.

Momentarily lost, I look for the first time since we began actually _out_ the window.

And words fail.

Words run away and hide under the bed.

But I’m transfixed, because monstrous things look beautiful to me.

There are specks in the water, thousands, scattered as far as I can see, all moving downwards, in the same directions as this ship, and then the nearby specks resolve into figures, people, monsters, creatures beautiful and unspeakable, winged men, horned women, things I can’t describe, every size, all swimming together in groups or alone or pairs.

Nearby, we pass a huge masculine succubus - short white robe off one shoulder like a greek god and with massive white-feathered angel wings and a paper-white-skinned devil tail tows along three naked human-looking women, one holding each hand and the third clutching his tail.

Beside them, two women together, one dark-haired and slight, one blonde and sturdy, both human-looking, no way to tell who’s predator and who’s prey, wearing nothing but glowing tattoos and jewelry that glints in the light shining up from below us, keep pace with a regal-faced, black-clad woman holding the leashes of two slightly-built, green-skinned succubi, one masculine and one feminine, who wear nothing but the collars to which the leashes attach.

(Lyra and I: which of us is the predator? Her form, spread ready to be bound inspires a need in me that is so very like hunger...)

In the distance beyond them, an actual dragon so help me god, with a human-shaped rider who waves to a tentacled silhouette nearby as they pass, the tentacles saluting smartly in return.

Darting past _them_ , a group of shapes that move too fast and lithely for me to convince myself I haven’t just seen a school of mermaids.

Among the swimmers are ships like ours, some larger, some smaller, some shiny metal or matte-black, every design of propulsion system, one ship ensconsed in scintillating hexagonal forcefields that obscure its design, all heading downwards with us.

And everything in between. And more. The sleepers aboard this ship were a sample, sleeping and seen in shadow, human enough to fit on and desire a ship. Awake and seen in the lights that shine up from below us, they’re transformed, terrifying, beautiful, dreams, _dreams_ , and things that are both.

By Sade, the wicked...

“By these elements...”

I’m stepping back, covering my free hand in the remainder of the ichor-and-element mixtures, the haunting of Lyra’s presence gripped mentally by the neck.

Hand raised, then falling: “Lyra, my succubus, I summon and bind you _here_.”

On ‘here’, I hit the window above Lyra’s head that bows to make room for the blow, ichorous palm open and flat, and with a dull smack it—

WHOOF.

—reality jumps, and instead of flat against glass my hand is curled around Lyra’s horn where her face is level with mine, her head cocked a bit by my hand which had been centered above it holding her horn in that position. She’s trying to straighten, weakly, and I let her. 

...face level with mine, which is impossible because there’s nothing for her to...

Ooohf, did it...yup. Can I...nope. Stuck but good.

Siiiiigh. I forgot how comfy this is.

...oh. She’s suspended a good foot off the floor, spread-eagled in the center of the star, one limb on the centerline of each point, hands splayed and feet pointing where they dangle as if some force holds them to the glass, tail dangling limply and wings folded tightly as she does when leaning against something, head still lolling a bit in my grip, grinning broadly.

Her presence against the glass reveals what has to be an intentional arrangement of lighting that casts the shadows of two control chains crossing over her navel, invisible before because there was nothing to catch them but the unreasonably transparent glass.

And I’ve got her head at the perfect angle...

OmiGOD making out while bound is so hot. I swear you find a way to kiss me deeper every time, mmm...

Her mouth is soft, and yielding, but, oddly, she resists when I pull her horn with the motion of the kiss.

Mmm...yep, bound tight, see? Pulls me right back to the middle when you let go, I can barely even turn on my own.

She’s bound, not resisting: what I feel is the magic fighting me. I’ve forgotten that the binding will be stronger to her than to me, and, moreover, it seems to hold every part of her with equal strength. Without my hand pulling, she’s able to follow my mouth only fractionally, and I can feel the tension of her muscles working against the force when I lay an affectionate hand against her neck.

My other hand needs to not be full of tools anymore.

Seriously unf this is amazing, I dunno if it’s just been too long or if I never knew just how much I like this, I...hey, come back! Boo. Nnnf. NNF!

Well, it’s not a _weak_ binding, that’s for sure.

She tries to follow when I break the kiss, but can’t lift her head more than half an inch despite struggling mightily, and whimpers quietly when I’m finally out of reach.

Setting the box to the floor, I step back to take the scene in. She’s lying there, totally relaxed, as if the window is a horizontal table, chest heaving with the effort of struggling (does exertion make her _feel_ winded, despite not _getting_ winded?), looking happy and now a bit lustful.

“It worked.”

Pant. “Don’t sound so surprised. Oooh...”

Hands on my sides, hands tracing down my front just under my breasts—

Gaspgaspgaaaasp fuck this always makes me feel so sensitive...

“Feeling vulnerable?”

“Y—” Waitohfuckgasp “EEEEEEEEP neep neep neeeep YES!”

Omigod and I thought I was ticklish when I was free. Gah. Never thought I’d be so glad the people I played with back home were so serious.

Oh crap, now what are you going to...nnnnn...ooh. Okay, yes, like that. Less tickles, more pinching of nipples. See how...gasp...that can make me squirm too?

Keeping my hands off her is hard (if blessedly unnecessary) normally, but like this it’s impossible. Another kiss, but with this one I reach between her legs for her tail, other hand cupping a breast, and bring it up between us, pulling it tight against her cunt, feeling her strain beneath my other hand, squirming against the binding and moaning harmonically into the kiss.

I’m close to her, and making out draws me closer, until the back of my hand on her breast contacts my own chest, and her tail beyond where my hand grips it is in reach to trail the point of her softened barb down my face, a tender warm point like a fingertip tracing the contours of my cheek and neck, tickly-arousing but sweet and then burning in my mind with the remembrance of the effect stroking the point has on her. 

We could, I realize as my cock fights to escape from the towel and get between her legs, have sex like this, and even with the audience it’s likely we would if I weren’t so curious what the dismissal is going to do.

Ooooh hell yeah, just a little more, come on...you’re a nice Master, you’ll say yes...

Releasing the breast that overfills a hand for which I custom-ordered a keyboard with the key-spacing increased by a full millimeter over standard, I break the kiss to take a step back, still clutching her tail, and she looks out of lustful half-closed eyes, disappointed to lose the kiss but still concentrating on something: she’s still stroking my face with the point of her tail, having settled into a rhythm in the soft place behind my earlobe that’s all kinds of noticeable now that I’m less distracted by the rest of her body.

“Are you about to come by playing with my ear?”

Nod n—...nrf. Keep forgetting.

“If you...let me...keep...going...oooohohgod...”

Swallowing the universe of implications, I gently pull her barb from my ear and kiss the tip, licking it slowly, and then, remembering the sensitivity of the other two points, shift my grip and, two-fisted, give them the gentle rolling pinch one does to nipples before letting her tail drop free.

“Soon. We’re going to try out this dismissal thing first.”

“AH!”

Holy FUCK unf they really do multiply when you play with more than one...

“Please soon...”

Jeez, begging without even thinking about it. When a Hollow Heart wants something and knows how to get it...

“As soon as we’re alone.”

“Audience is...fine...”

“Soon.”

Now, how to do this? Presumably she’s going to drop free when Dismissed, so I should be ready to catch her. Well, that will make a good gesture: I wrap my hands around her waist, ready to encircle her as she falls.

“Get ready.”

Mm, hands.

Okay. Better look Master in the eyes for this instead of doing the downcast thing.

Two endless abysses, starry with the reflection of my face, rimmed - impossibly in the monochromatic red light - with purple fire. 

They _do_ glow.

Take hold, her presence in my head as well as in front of me.

Short. A phrase, if I can. Poetry, overcompressed. Sliding my arms around her and pulling with the final word: “Lyra, I release you into the bonds of my will.”

Whooop! Whoah, hehe, always so weird weighing something again...ooh. Oh that’s weird, that’s...yum, it’s all silky. It’s all silky and it tastes like you, unf...

There’s a moment of resistance and the something snaps around us as Lyra comes free and reflexively wraps herself around me, gripping tightly and laying her head on my shoulder...

And then I’m transfixed again, because I’ve looked out the window.

Okay, so what does this...oooh. How literal. Nnnf...sheesh, almost as strong as when I was on the pentagram. Not bad for your first shot, Master.

Framed by Lyra’s horned, metal-haired head, half-unfolded wing, and grey arm around me, metered out by the red-gleaming pentagram etching, beyond the ever-densening crowd of swimmers, is...

Mountains. An undersea asteroid field. A city, exploding, ignoring up and down and horizion in the same way the Sea does, illuminated by the light of its own windows and that of great lights hanging in the Sea between the buildings...

Statues. Great figures, massive stone effigies in gleaming black and alabaster white and every color between, contrasting as they intertwine, the same style as the inlay on Cleavage’s blade but on the scale of buildings, of mountains, of planets in the distance, every size down to the limit of sight and up to geologic, every gender and every possibility in between, every possible kind of monster, tentacles and scales, claws and horns, wings feathered or batlike or translucent like fairy-wings catching the light in that rainbow-edged high-refractive-index way only possible by way of gemstone, all reflecting the riot of variety in the demons swimming alongside us, a...

Words fail, and mythology breaks.

This actually is Hell. It must be, because here’s the wall of tortured souls, but these souls are in ecstasy.

Ecstasy and agony.

And it’s not a wall, it’s a web worked throughout the endless 3D fractal of this place. There are places that are more buildings and mad geology and places that are more empty Sea, but there’s no hard boundary anywhere.

An orgy worked in stone. Every sex act, speakable and unspeakable, is written here, in perfect pornographic detail - why, I realize, would succubus sculptors do anything but disdain a line between art and pornography, if they know of one at all? 

And with them are written the emotions, the lust and pain and hunger and hope and fear and need and _love_ , carved into the stone faces with a sense of life I’ve never seen in stonework: A bound woman, spread-eagled and affixed to the rock she’s carved from - among the statues are rocks, mountains hanging in the sea - face-down, twists around to sweetly kiss the angel-winged man who stands over her, hand in her hair, a whip captured in the moment of being shaken out of its coils in his other hand. Two men, one with long tapered horns curving back along his skull, embracing, the horned one supple, wrists held behind his back by his larger human partner as they kiss. Unapologetically phallic tentacles from an indeterminate source twine through the scenes, wrapping limbs or gripped for support, penetrating where they will, devoured with the lusty hunger I saw on Lyra’s face during that first ritual. And on, every possible combination of partners and activity, caught in moments of connection or passion or wicked-grinning fun.

And here, on the doorstep, I understand: people have seen this, and turned back, fought back through the ordeal we survived to come here, turned away from the greeting the captain gave me, cast aside companions like Lyra.

Who would _do_ that?

The ones who saw Hell here, and described it to the rest of us, because they’re the people who looked at this, and saw only the agony. Only the danger on the faces of those statues holding whips or floggers or just raising hands to strike. Only the fear on the faces of those statues gripped by the neck or held to the rocks and fucked with cock, finger, or tentacle.

None of the lust, none of the care, none of the excitement and love.

To see this, and turn back here, you have to be someone who can look into the light that burns like the birth of a universe for us monsters, and see only darkness. Look into that light, and not even see it reflecting off us.

They see Hell here, because they carry Hell with them everywhere they go.

For the course of human history, those are the people who’ve described this place to us, and today I’m seeing the truth just like I’ve _felt_ the truth about this in the fire Lyra’s helplessness sets in me. This was the light that claimed Persephone, and for millennia poets have called it the kingdom of the dead because they couldn’t _see_.

Something pulls at my mind. Lyra, struggling, trying to turn her head. We’re wrapped together in cords, as if the force that bound her to the window has come free with her and snapped around us both as I took her in my arms. She embraced me with a happy sigh when I pulled her free, but she had no choice: the cords bind her to me as tightly as they held her to the window...cords is the wrong word.

They bind like cords but merge and separate like something fluid, clinging and stretching and reforming like...well, come...but they obey my will, drunkenly, tightening or dissolving to reform elsewhere with a thought, and they pay no regard to physicality: strands around limbs tie us together, but, following the strands I find myself falling vertiginously through Lyra’s body, seeing ‘places’ I could wrap strands to still her breathing or silence her voice. It’s bizarre, like a new sense, not a vision that obscures the mindshattering view out the window, but makes me unsteady on my feet all the same.

Lyra pulls again, and I withdraw all the bonds above her neck, her fingers splaying against me as they reform at her hands.

“Mmf. This is fun...”

And _stretchy_ , I bet I can almost grind...mmm, almost. Rubbing against you is nice, anyway...

It takes me a moment between Lyra’s squirming and the view to form words.

“What does it feel like?”

Almost, it moves around almost like rope, if I can just wiggle my hips out of it a little...oh, right, question.

“It’s...mm...it’s all silky and warm but it feels like it’s you touching me, not just a...binding. It’s almost like you have...tentacles or...something...this is awesome...”

Her voice is full of lust, still horny from my playing with her tail, presumably.

Well, we can do something about that. Can we use whatever this is tying us together to do it? The cords seem to obey strange, shifting rules: when I release my arms from around her, she stays wrapped, bound, but trying to pull the cords to lift her into the air is impossible like trying to lift myself by my own armpits, and yet I’m able to carefully unwrap them from around myself and free her legs so that she’s lowered gently to the floor as if I’ve set her down.

Wait, fuck, can I stand? Oh, legs free, okay. Arms sorta free, too, good, because even I’m about ready to take things into my own...whoop, oof.

Yeah, should have seen that coming.

She reaches between her legs as soon as she’s free, so I pull the cords that still wrap her arms and they come together behind her back, leaving me with a tangle that draws them down and arches her back fractionally when I tug on it. Glorious.

“I said, soon. You really don’t mind an audience?”

Mrf, come on. You wanna show off and you know it.

“Do...you?”

Not as much as I probably should. I steal a glance up at the captain, but she and the co-pilot are intent, she watching out the window and adjusting course constantly while he focuses on the ring of panels that surrounds him: piloting in this crowd must be somewhat of a challenge.

Experimentally, I pull at a strand that metaphorically wraps around one of her thighs, pulling it up to grind against her cunt, but this is apparently impossible: the magic is definitely pulling at her body and not controlling her muscles, but it’s _bondage_ magic and can’t be used like an appendage to probe and stroke.

Well, there’s another approach to what I want to do...

That little smirk, what are you going to—

Wait eep no I need that to stand don’t...whew. Mmm hands holding me up by my waist, but what ooooh oh god dammit unf why do I have to have such sensitive thighs...

There’s just enough coherence to the cords to bring her thighs together tightly and make her squirm to rub them, but I can feel that I’m pushing the magic to its limit, making the cords begin to unravel and dissipate. I’d wanted to fix the tip of her tail between her thighs, but there was a tearing moment that told me that level of complexity would push things too far for the magic to hold, so instead it ends up just looped into the bonds that hold her thighs. Best carry out my evil plan if I’m going to get to.

I hope I have the social conventions of this place right.

Now, carefully, not wrecking the spell anymore. Can it handle this?

My tail is free? Oop! Nope. My tail is bound to your hand? That should be...whee!

Okay, that was cool.

Pulling bonds individually tears at the already-weakening magic too much, but it’s possible to take the bonds wrapping her arms and torso and pull them over us both all at once so that she’s whipped around to lean with her back against me, legs bound to mine, arms bound to mine, and I find myself wishing again to have remembered to doff the towel, but now there’s no time.

There’s just enough precision left to line her hand up with mine where it’s bound to the end of her tail and draw the three together, the bond snapping over them all like a latex glove. Her barb is just the right length to lay my first two fingers along its length with the point between them while I grip the rear point to my palm with my thumb. 

Okay, this is going to be interesting. Yes, holding it in front of me I see how you’ve got my tail, I can feel it too lemme tell you. What do you...oh. Do the same thing with my hand so both pooints ooh are held, okay. I can have some fun with thaaaat. Can’t reach the tip this way but think I’d just be in the way anyhow, if I know what you’re about to do to me...

“Now, question. Your tail and clit come separately, right?”

Nod nod nod. Why...ooh, fuuuck, I see where this I going. Good thing I’m tied up.

“We’re gonna make them both come, but you have to save whichever one is first so they both come at once, or at least as close as we can get them. Understand?”

Grin. Nodnod.

“And do have some fun with that tail-point in your hand, or anything else you can reach while I play.”

What else can _I_ reach? Folding my other arm around her to cup a breast pushes her other hand up from where it’s splayed around my wrist and I let it slide through the bindings until her open hand is cupped in my palm, our fingers interlaced, so that I’m holding her holding her breast, raking our ten fingers gently over the nipple, rewarded with a cooing unevenness in her answer:

“Yes _Master_.”

Oooh, that...oh fuck, two fingers and a tail-tip, you can nestle ‘em around my clit and it even keeps your fingernails away, oh FUUUUCK...

She arches against me, moaning quietly, head lolling, when I rake the group of fingers and tail-tip up her outer lips, and after a moment strains her legs, trying to open, reminding me I need to spread my own to let her, a maneuver that leaves my towel only dubiously attached, mostly held by the pressure of her body against mine, and then I’m going at her clit properly and she’s moaning out loud...

“Ooo—” Wait crap gasp holy fuck it can bind _that_? Whoah...

Oh my fuck so intense against each other oh FUCK it feels like I’m gonna explode when you pinch the back point too wait I can play with the one I’ve got if I could just concen...traaate...

Ooh, okay tail, just hang on now...hang...

Momentarily: her eyes widen and she gasps, fighting the bond, when I pull the small band I’d found in my first plunge through the spell’s strangeness, the one that quiets her voice, then relaxes into it, having realized I’ve saved her this piece of self-restraint, and then she’s inhaling in an endless gasp, filling her seemingly bottomless lungs for the explosion I know is coming and then—

Oh fuck, oh my fuck, just a little...oooooooh yum fuck I can’t control _UNH_

She comes all in a burst and there’s a snapping feeling in my head as bonds let go with the force of it - she strains against me with a strength that almost knocks me off my feet, breath exploding in a silent scream that pushes the magic to its limit as she fights to make noise and then it’s over, almost suddenly, and she’s panting and shuddering with oversensitivity at my playing.

“Wow. OhmiGOD that was intense.”

Pant. Flop. Really glad I’ve got the binding holding me up right now.

Ooh, the binding and now your arms around me, okay, that’s cool.

... _our_ arms around me. This is the oddest bondage.

Feels weird only being able to whisper, I never knew I liked my voice so much...

“Feeling good now?”

It’s a genuine question, this was a bit of an experiment. 

Nod nod.

“That tasted almost as good as when _you_ cum. Unf.”

To say nothing of cumming so hard I can’t stand up anymore. Jeez.

“Good. It’s fun getting you off.”

The binding is in tatters, still holding us together but only barely and fading away perceptibly as Lyra pants limply against me, head lolled back against my shoulder. Something above or behind us catches her eye and I follow her gaze.

“I can tell...”

Heh, that got both your attention up there, didn’t it. Enjoy the show?

Sniffsniff. Captain was clearly into watching us, but it’s not...it’s just sweet like when people watch you play in a dungeon. Huh.

The captain is laying back in the pilot’s seat, smiling a lopsided smile at us, until the co-pilot says something to her and she snaps her attention back to the window, hauling one of the control sticks with a maneuver we can feel even through the artificial gravity.

“Apparently you put on a good show.”

“ _You_ put on a good show, I was just the instrument this time.”

“I do want to learn to play you like one.”

“Hot.”

Nuzzle nuzzle grind.

“You’re going to make me lose my towel if you keep at that.”

“Tragedy. And you’re all hard under there, too.”

I know, I know. Making me cum in front of strangers is already a bigger step than most new Earthlings will take at a time, I’m already going to get all the kudos just for getting this far. I shouldn’t expect you to already fuck me in front of someone we know, let alone this lady I’m not even really sure about. But come ooooon...oh, fine.

“Sooo.” Grind. “How did the word get into English, anyway?”

Phoo! I’m actually worn out from cumming like that, even with all the lust it got out of you. Guess I should just relax if you’re really not right about to fuck me.

“Huh?”

“Lyra. It’s the Infernal word for...”

Oh god dammit English. Infernal word for what? Toy? Implement? Musical instrument? How the Balls do I render this connotation? Bleh. Well, go with where this got started.

“...instrument.”

And like ten pages of notes on poetics and music and play. Mrf.

“It’s a constellation, the harp. I forget if the word is Latin or Greek or something else, but you have stars and they’re prettier than anything in the sky, so...”

“Aw!”

Ki...nnf. Okay, fine, I can reach your cheek at least. Kiss.

Oh god, home. Dear Sade I had no idea how glad I’d be to see the Falls again, I mean I’ve only been outside what, two or three times?

Home.

She relaxes into me again, hanging against the last of the binding. I could tear it away with a thought, but it seems somehow more right to hold her to me while the bonds fade so that after a few moments she’s hanging only against my encircling arms and leaning her weight against me, and we - I, Lyra’s weight is on me, not her feet - stand thus regarding the view for a while, watching the buildings and mountains loom slowly closer, peaceful. 

The statues decorate, support, interconnect, are, buildings in every style, gothic cathedrals with no top or bottom, double ended towers free-floating but for where they’re made part of the larger whole by intertwining statuary, massive terraced complexities dotted with the multicolored lights of windows like stars, and the buildings are worked of stone, or steel-and-glass, or insane techno-medieval fusion like the wet-dream of a strung-out JRPG environment designer, or are simply massive un-engineered mountains of black stone that seems to be composed of long, narrow shards all fused together along an almost parallel axis so that they seem like explosions of darkness radiating out from some unseen epicenter, lights glowing here and there along the seams.

Surrounding the statues, and buildings, and mountains, as if holding everything together, are massive, ornately carved stone rings, arches, buttresses, connecting parts of the Hall, encircling buildings or groups of statues or entire continents, some disappearing into the sea of buildings as if defining arcs from one place to another, and then the sea of buildings itself is formed into waves, mountain ranges, tendrils, some already looming above us in the distance, shapes recalling the horizonless surface of the Sea above us.

There’s a logic to the architecture, buildings near each other almost but not quite sharing an axis of up and down, sharing similar kinds of architecture, and the styles blend into each other with a sort of fractal organization, gothic with gothic but blending with a complicated boundary into techno-medieval that melds to science-fiction glass-and-steel obelisks.

The Hall seems to go on for miles like a mountain range I can’t see the end of, but below (I thought, before, that the ship must have leveled out as we boarded, but no: we’ve been diving straight down the whole time, Lyra and I have just been standing on impossible artificial gravity rocks as we are now) us one section in particular is looming up, dominated by miles-long rocks suspended near each other like a mountain caught in the middle of being shattered by some titanic hammer-blow, the shiny black stone of Cleavage’s blade and the raft predominating, architecture where the rocks are engineered somewhere between gothic, medieval, and JRPG baroque. In the gaps between the mountains is a strange, shifting white glow, shining with an inconstant inner light, obscuring the inside of the...ravine? Valley? Describing this place in geologic terms feels like talking about the mizzen mast of a fighter jet.

We’re close enough to see the swimmers begin to find doors, windows, or other apertures in the buildings and rocks. Hundreds simply vanish into the white blur...

“The white between the rocks...you called this place the Falls.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s waterfalls. From the back.”

“Yep. Pretty, huh?”

“How does...that’s not how...”

Hehe. Grin. “Not how gravity works?”

“...yeah. Fuck.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

This is romantic, but time’s a tickin’ and I wanna play. It’s going to be all kinds of drama once we get inside what with meeting friends and all.

“So. Bet you can’t summon me from another room.”

“Challenge _accepted_. What do we do?”

“It’s exactly the same, except you’ve already anointed me and the pentagram so you can skip right to Taking Hold. They should be good for at _least_ one more summoning.”

Do we need...nope. Still some ichor left on the box if you wanna do it that way.

“Dont keep me...” Blech, pillow-stuff. God, so picky.

“You should probably get me right back down if you wanna try a third summoning as much as I do, though. We have to go soon.”

“Duly noted. Shoo.”

Flounce flounce bounce either you’re into heels or I’ve just got strong calves whee.

Fuck. Brr. I wanna go back to Master...okay, chill, self. He’s not even an aslu away.

She pads off, tiptoeing to preserve the elements on her feet, and disappears through the curtain that brought us in here, her absence like a hole in the world. I’d feel melodramatic, but tonight we’ve faced certain death together, defied an angel, and I’ve lost my humanity _and_ virginity to her and as safe as we seem to be here it’s still teraparsecs beyond unfamiliar, _and_ technically speaking I’ve spent eighty percent of the past five years with her _inside my head_ , day and night. So yes, it feels a little off that she’s not _right_ by my side.

Yeah, forget it, I’m not going to feel okay being apart until we can do Hollow Heart Summoning. That and I’m going to fucking implode from curiosity if I don’t find out what the big reveal about how you learn it is pretty soon.

We must be able to, right? This feeling, this is supposed to be what powers it, we’ve got that alright.

We’ve been touching so much, I fancy I can still feel her on me: just the thing to Take Hold of. Rubbing more elements-and-ichor onto my palm, I square off in front of the pentagram.

“By the Water of all Seas...”

Last time, I ended up with her horn in my hand because of where I hit the pentagram. I adjust my aim, judging the position precisely by last time’s handprint that’s still left on the glass.


	14. Sorceror's Apprentice Mode

“...Lyra I summon and bind you _here_!”

—and there’s a blur and something rushes through me and out of my hand and with a _bamf_ of displaced air Lyra’s bound, her grin turned surprised and lusty with widened eyes at finding my fingers firmly around her neck.

Things accidentally saved for Master because I was emo, #347: breath play.

Thing not learned because of that: oh my fuck this is intense, you’d think I actually needed...oh my fuck kissing when I can’t breathe is...oh god...

Gaaasp whew. Cupping my chin, yum, come on, kiss me...ung yus kiss me and stroke my cunt even better fuck am I just still that wet from before? It felt like it but I could swear this is mooooore oh fuck yes...boo.

Are you going to make me taste...oh, ooh. Slippery on my lips don’t lick it off, self, don’t lick...yuum. Oops.

“Tastes pretty good, doesn’t it?”

Sweat reactive nectar nom fuck it who needs dignity anyway.

Can’t nod don’t wanna talk bet you’ll get it if I just don’t hide the way this stuff makes me feel. 

Yup. Oooh right you’ll need to get moooore...

“Have some more, then. No licking it off your lips, this time.”

Oh god yus a whole finger’s worth and also sucking on finger unf...okay. On my lips, don’t lick it off until...oooh. Oh kiss me. Oh so deep. Makes our lips so slippery, yeah...

“I love you.”

I’ve broken the kiss, my lips just brushing hers as I speak.

“Love you too, Master...”

“Ready?”

Hands on my waist, ready to catch me. Nod nnf.

“...ready...”

Short and poetic. Something a little different this time. 

“Give me your lust, and you’ll be _free_.”

Whoop! So totally expected to be bound again, bondage makes you taste so awesome I totally assumed it’d be _something_ with that.

What _did_ we get? I don’t feel anything...

Pressure. Intense, contained, but healthy, right. Enough pressure, not too much or too little, slowly seeping away but constantly replenished by some source in the center of the pressure. Contained in something flexible, something with a top and a bottom and places where the boundary is thinnest, two below, one above, two between, places where the pressure seeps away fastest.

I set Lyra to her feet, regarding her, and she looks back, curious, eyes asking for another kiss, but I’m distracted, trying to understand the dismissal.

“Anything?”

“Something. It feels like...I dunno. Pressure?”

Can I _do_ anything with this? It’s far less obvious than the last. I can...sort of pull at the boundary. It’s ‘flexible’, but pressing at it seems not to have any visible effect.

“Does that feel like anything?”

Shrug.

The thin places are thin because they’re under tension: they’re not just flexible, but elastic. I pull, gently, at one of the lower places, and it yields comfortably, nowhere near the limit of its stretch, but nothing seems to happen - she shifts on her feet, but doesn’t otherwise react.

Dammit, the suspense is turning me on. Obscure ones are always fun.

Wait, no, fuck, it’s not just...eep that’s my...ulp! Oh fuck, this one’s going to be interesting. Are the only towels all the way back by the airlock?

Well. It won’t be towels you’re cleaning me up with anyway.

When I tug at the upper thin place, it stretches easily, catching me off guard with how little ‘force’ is needed, and Lyra swallows, eyes wide, so I release the pressure.

“What did that do?”

“Um. You’ll want to kiss me and try that.”

I cannot believe it actually felt _good_. Dignity, who needs it, not me apparently. I’ll say one thing though, if this doesn’t get you caught up on nectar, nothing’s going to.

“Oh?” I wrap a fist in her hair and bring her to me, parting her lips with my own, and pull mentally, stretching the thin place further this time, and when I do she melts into me, kiss inviting and open-mouthed and wet and then nectar fills my mouth and I understand what I’m controlling, and pull the thin place to its limit.

Oh my fuuuuuuck...

Drunk from a kiss or oral it’s intense, but this is overwhelming, a vision-blurring rush almost like coming, one swallow after another, the power of it filling me to my extremities, making my hands burn with life where they hold her to me. She’s breathing hard, ragged and urgent, through her nose, aroused: this isn’t just fun for me.

More.

Laying my free hand against her outer lips, I pull open the lower thin place that seems, now that I understand the shapes, to be her cunt and she quails, moaning, weight settling against my hand that’s rewarded with a hot gush of slick nectar.

Oh fuck oh my fuck please neep...whew gaaaasp...

Handful of nectar. Please, please...fuck, what is this one doing to me? Fuck it I have to...

I break the kiss and let her stop overflowing and she takes a long, panting breath, looking at me out of lusty, almost fearful eys.

Her arms and wings have been wrapped around me as we’ve made out, but when I bring my hand up from her pussy she seizes my wrist with both hands, looking at the fingers hungrily.

I respond with a look: Not this one, this is mine. There’s plenty more where that came from.

Butbutbut...please? Dammit, look at me. Mrf. This _must_ be part of the dismissal.

Right? Neep.

“Patience.”

Her hands still cling to my wrist, but she doesn’t fight when I lick my hand clean, wondering if I’m making as much of a melodramatic face of pleasure as it feels like, and so by way of reward I rub the last of the nectar onto my own lips and—

OMFG POUNCE. Unf, lick it off him slower, self, you’ll enjoy it more. Now, do I dare make out yes apparently so mmm phew no being wrung out this time just extra nectary and I think that’s just me being turned ooooon whoah oh god it’s hard to stand when you do that...

“Here.” Another handful of nectar squeezed from her cunt, dripping, a pool of it cupped in my palm. This time I don’t resist when she seizes my wrist to drink it down, licking my hand perfectly clean with a desperate, cooing hunger.

“I think you like your taste almost as much as I do.”

Oh fuck me, I’m gonna be so completely fucked. I guess this had to out at some point...

“I...mmm...yum...it’s only licking it off you, when it’s on you it soaks...mmf...after a while it soaks up the energy of our...play, makes it taste...amaaaazing...”

Come on, there must be more someplace, maybe under your nails? No? Humf. Fuck, listen to me...

“...mmf...and now there’s SO MUCH and the dismissmal’s doing something so it gets yummy faster, I can’t control...more, please more, Master...”

I wanted...I promised myself I wasn’t gonna resist what I am, I wasn’t gonna be lame like Leah and miss all the stuff I’ve watched her miss, I promised I’d follow this whereever it led, but...please let this be the dismissal. I at least wanna have enough self control to be able to be good when you tell me to...

Don’t fail me now, please-eyes. “Please?”

She’s looking at me, and then my hand that she still holds loosely, and then down, hesitating, and then pulling it towards her cunt. I should be absorbing what she’s just said about nectar because it’s clearly going to make life interesting, should be saying yes or no, but I’m busy with the realization of what, I think, the binding can actually do.

I collect my wits, and hold my hand still, for the moment. I’m not going to torment or deny her, I just have something in mind.

“No! Please, please more! Please...” Fuck me I sound like I’m going to cry, feel like I’m gonna cry, how can...oh. This isn’t a mindfuck, we didn’t somehow do something to my head after all with this dismissal, this is just me. I would’ve walked up and tried to kick that seraphim in the balls if I’d thought it’d get us here, and now I’m surprised I’ll beg for this? I’ve been begging the whole time. “Please...”

“Count to ten, and you can have as much as you want.”

Oh god okay...anything, just please...

“Onetwo...three...”

Oh my...what’s...no I have to...

Her counting trails off, and she’s looking from my face to my hand in hers and back, conflicted, lips parting so she can lick them. She wants things that would require letting my hand go, letting the count go, but she can’t drop either option.

The new sense in my mind this time can be prodded, stretched, explored. It can also be caressed. Gently stroking the place that fills her mouth with nectar has opened her lips, made her look at me with hungry kiss-me eyes. Running tender mental fingers over the two middle-places couldn’t make her nipples any harder than they already are, but the wish to touch them is no doubt what’s giving her hands pause right now. She’s totally focused on this conflict, apparently having even forgotten her tail and wings, which hang limply.

Caressing someone’s body with your own fills a need, scratches that maddening itch to be touched that comes with lust. This Dismissal is...the other side of that.

And of course it’s all just thought, so there’s nothing to stop me stroking the whole representation of her form at once while I do this, but for the place representing her pussy: that would tip the balance, and also just be cruel.

And, I’m saving it, there will be a perfect moment...

“Good femme, what number is next?”

She’s actually let go with one of her hands to pull at a lip and starts to take a finger in her mouth, but I pull it away so she can talk and she whimpers, frustrated.

“Well?”

...can’t...think...need...

In response, she pulls at the hand that’s taken hers from her mouth, drawing it to a breast where she arches against me, exhaling relief and pleasure when I take hold and squeeze the nipple, releasing my hand to cup her other breast when it’s clear I’m not going to let go.

A single mental caress of her cunt, and it’s as if there’s a long, slow, letting-go in her and then she’s tugging at my other hand again, trying to pull it there, desperate, animal.

“Please...nrg!”

And she’s strong, lifting herself fractionally off the floor with the force of it for a moment, and then as I keep mentally stroking heat into her her hands still and she takes my free hand and pulls it to her mouth, cooing with pleasure at the touch, eyes closed. I don’t try to withdraw, but she momentarily sets sharpened fangs against it ready to bite should I try to deny her this and then melts, wholly lost in the sensation, as I match mental and physical caresses, exploring the slick softness of her mouth.

Her other hand is still trying to force mine between her legs, slipping off its nectar-damp shape to grip again, pulling, clawing at me, so, noting the way there’s a rhythm in her response to my mental caresesses of her mouth, I apply the same to her cunt and then also the whole front of her form and she moans, piteous, around my fingers, eyes opening to plead with mine, needing.

For a moment, only a moment, I let her feel it, let the need burn her, and then I relent, pushing us against the window, laying my weight atop her, splaying her out as she grinds my fingers into her cunt, unsure if she’s trying to cover me in nectar effectively or just satisfy the lust I’ve raised. She’s flowing, dripping down her thighs, the mental floodgate stretching open of its own accord as I caress and then more at the touch of my hand.

“As much as you want, as much as you can drink, but you have to kiss me after every handful. This first one is yours but then you have to share.”

Oh god...okay...

“Mmm...”

...I need to...I can’t...oh god...need to...nectar...oh GOD please put a finger in me put your hand in me please I’ll crumble if I stop getting touched but nectar...want to feel...something inside...can I...fingers...

“...please...”

Slick lips that lead...indside...inside of hips that lower hungrily onto them when I take my two middle fingers and let them slide inside her, index and pinky along her outer lips, drinking in her moan of relief and pleasure as I fill her.

God oh god yuuus now fuck me come on...

She’s hot inside, textured and slick like a human girl, and her cunt clutches my fingers with a powerful clench as she settles weight onto my hand, angling as if she could climb up my arm, devouring it bit by bit.

The part of me that knows everything except when to stop thinking notes that I’m not finding a cervix nor should I have expected to because this isn’t a reproductive organ, and then gets distracted with a much better anatomy question: does she have a G-spot?

OH MY FUCK OH GOD FUCK I can’t stand up when...hold me eep...OH...

Yes, she does. She does, and with fingers inside her I’m able to find in the dismissal’s magic the place I’m fingering and catch her between the hammer of my physical hands and the anvil of this lust-raising magic and make her writhe, pinned between me and the window, singing her lust to me around my fingers in her mouth.

More. More of that nectar, more of the way she licks it off me. I finally muster the self-control to withdraw my fingers and cup my hand against her and pull a gush of nectar from her, even bigger than expected, the flow lingering: the thin-stretched place is more yielding now, like it wants to be stretched open. She fights me, trying to hold my fingers inside her and then when by slipperiness and my strength she can’t trying to work her fingers between my hand and her cunt to keep playing, lost in the need to be touched. I can feel her lust feeding back to me through the dismissal, like the shape in my mind is hot where she needs to be touched and can be soothed by my hands, and understand that noone alive has the willpower to resist what I’m doing to her.

Big drops stretch free of my overflowing hand to spat against the stone floor as I raise it to her lips, pulling my other hand away to make room.

“Careful, don’t spill.”

But of course it’s tricky to drink from a hand when you’re _not_ mad with lust and masturbating desperately and some falls to her breasts to run into her cleavage and hot and slick between our bodies as she drinks and then licks my hand clean and I find that my other hand is already at her cunt, while she’s licking this one, fighting into position to be filled with nectar and then somehow I’ve squeezed another handful out of her and gotten it to her lips and I want to kiss her but she drinks it down before I can so I caress at her mouth in my mind, making it desperate, hungry to be full of something solid and alive, and then in the dismissal’s new sense something moves oddly and...

Wow lots this time yum oh god fingers fingers are good too...that...weird...almost feels like...

There are two layers, one thick, one thin, in the place in the dismissal that makes her mouth flow with nectar, and I know what they do. I’ve been, to this point, only stretching the thick one, but now I take the thin one and pull it to the limit. She’s already licked my hand clean and is going down on my fingers recreationally by this point, eyes opening for a hopeful glance toward my other hand where it’s come to rest on her hip, but instead I use the hand she’s sucking and her need for it to bring her face to mine, replacing fingers with my tongue, trying to be merciful and not leave her a moment unfilled.

Boo, no, fingers...okay then fucking kiss me come on yes I can suck your tongue into my mouth gimme that nice big tongue bigger every time I swear and I will fucking bite if you try to take it away I need this dammit so...wait, what...oh my fuck what did we do...

Her kiss is desperate and hungry, drawing my tongue shockingly far in, but otherwise normal-for-a-succubus at first, still a bit slick from drinking out of my hand but otherwise her and I’m impatient so I open the thick layer, filling her mouth...

Oh my fuck I didn’t think anything could be this slippery holy fuck I mean I’ve felt it in my cunt but this is totally diff...oh my god oh god it works on your tongue on your mouth it makes it taste like when your hand...unf...more...

...and as soon as I’ve swallowed the drink of nectar - the thick, slick, intense nectar of her cunt, welling up from her mouth - my mouth is full of succubus tongue, probing hungrily, exploring behind my lips and under my own tongue and everywhere else she can reach with it, relentless. She even manages to make do with only one hand touching herself, raising the other to clutch at my face, holding us together, so I pull another swallow from her, and then another, and then I’m holding the flow open, drinking and drinking, taking in the overwhelming flow of nectar I’ve wanted ever since that first real taste, still making out around the flow, Lyra’s breath from her nose hot and ragged on my face, and...

You do spontaneously come if you drink enough succubus nectar, it’s inevitable but that’s okay because one of us has stripped the towel off me and hurled it across the room and I’m lifting her off the ground and forcing her legs open, pinned against the window, trying to enter, once, twice, but fucking someone up against a wall for the first time is tricky and then somehow we’re on the ground and I’m in her, me on top, arms wrapped around each other, still kissing although we must have let a lot spill because our bodies are covered and slick so that we can’t get a grip on each other, Lyra pawing at my ass with slippery fingers while I crush her to me, trying to work my burning, throbbing cock deeper into her, unsure even if I’m already coming or just alive with the fury of energy she can drink out of me when we’re actually having sex, and the power of all this nectar as it burns through me.

More, I can take more, she can give more, I open her to her limit, the heat of it flowing down my shaft inside her to spread over my hips between us. I’ve drunk...how much? Gallons, satisfying, but it doesn’t fill me, even at this rate absorbing away into my body to works its magic as fast as I can drink it down, making me...

Oh...oh fuuuck I didn’t think it was even possible to make this much this is so...oh...I’m not...not keeping up, please don’t drink me up I want to keep being yours forever...I’m...oooh...feels so good, letting...go...

...come...

...letting...oh...

...and come...

...fuck OH FUUUCK

...and then Lyra comes beneath me and for a moment I can bask in then beauty of her climax, clenching against my cock and drinking in the come I’ve already come and then it’s as if some circuit completes and I explode properly, pumping impossibly much come into her, on and on...

...and _on_ oh my god yum so much cum and all that nectar is going straight to your balls and you’re just going to keep...oh my fuck, did we ignite? I guess that would be...hope this isn’t a bad place to...ooooooooh fuck it let’s fuck forever I feel so _good_...

...and on and ten thousand years go by in an eyeblink and I keep coming and keep drinking and Lyra keeps coming, moaning into the kiss, cunt gripping my cock with a grip so tight I doubt I could withdraw if I wanted and _still_ we don’t let up, powering each other, harder and harder, unending...

Oh. My. Oh...oh...oh. Well okay, this is still pretty...ooh...

I’m starting to master myself through the orgasm, collect my wits enough to play with the dismissal, to make sure Lyra enjoys having me inside her just as much as she’s physically capable of, and then all too soon it’s fading and I realize that I’ve only managed to concentrate this much because it’s _been_ fading.

The flow of nectar dries...well. Nothing near us is going to be _dry_ for a bit, I can see an actual puddle glistening dark on the stone floor and spreading from under our heads where we’ve spilled in the passion of making out. But the flow of nectar subsides, and thereby so do I, and thereby so does Lyra, though we don’t stop kissing or having sex until things are well and truly done, and even then we lie joined, my erection lingering in defiance of biology, for long moments, panting together. Even now her pussy holds me tight, a welcome warm pressure, comforting.

“Oh Master...” Want to talk, can only whisper.

Hollow Heart. Not far enough until it’s too far. I’d let you break me. I’d let you drink me up. I wouldn’t even be pissed, because it’s yours, all of it. Just as long as it made you happy.

If I didn’t know you’d burn all of Pandemonium to keep me around, I’d be so scared right now.

Hell, I bet that sword _would_ burn all of Pandemonium if we drew it, by this point.

For the second time tonight, a light beneath me draws my eyes open: Lyra’s stars are shining, bright and purple-white, the color seeming brilliant and blue in the red of the bridge. After a moment, she opens luminescent purple eyes, gazing at me happy and sated, and then focuses on something above us.

Oh. Right, I’d rather forgotten about them. Twisting around to look, I catch the captain giving us a smirking look while the co-pilot gazes out the canopy, alert.

To Lyra: “They’re still watching, huh.”

Hehe. “Yeah, I think so. Looks like she enjoyed the show.”

The captain’s eyes are a hot flood over my back, my bare ass. I try for embarrassment, but something’s wrong and it won’t launch. Am I _liking_ this? I am not liking this. Nope. No. And poor Lyra, it’s one thing to parade for an audience that’s only half paying attention in a place where clothes are optional anyway, but something else entirely to get fucked in front of...

Yeah, no. The thoughts aren’t sticking. Even I can’t bullshit my way out of this one.

Seriously, what the fuck. Am I this narcissistic?

Poor Master, is this actually a surprise for you? But you like it so much, it’s all...yum...just a little push, for flavor...

“She’s totally checking you out. Bet she wishes she’d asked if she could get off to watching us play.”

I will not. I will not imagine the captain watching us from her chair with a hand between her legs and the other cupping a breast to...dammit.

“I’m surprised she didn’t anyway, we kind of had sex in front of her.”

In response, Lyra presses her hips to mine, making my ‘front of her’ stumble.

Oh. I’m still hard, no doubt by some lingering effect of the nectar overdose I just had, there’s no way this situation could...help...

“Kind of _are_ having sex in front of her.”

“It’s not very nice to wank to someone without their consent.”

And, you know, tends to get you spiked. 

“Wanna give her a show she _can_ get off to? She’s been making like she wants one since we came on board.”

Mwahah, your face right now.

“...no, sh!”

If I climb off Lyra, am I defusing the situation or showing the captain the rest of myself?

“I...”

Grind. Carefully. I’m being a good girl if I encourage you, right??

“You know you want to, come on.”

“You _like_ showing off.”

“I dunno, maybe I kinda do...”

I mean, it’s not that big of a surprise. Cheryl totally called it months ago, if nothing else. Glad I didn’t make a bet over _that_.

“...I can tell you do...”

She’s cooing, voice naughty, lower lip caught under one fang lusting-thoughtfully.

I want, to want, to look for the towel. I try, I fail. 

It’s like the motion of Lyra’s cunt on me squeezes the words out of my subconscious:

“I want to show us both off.”

And? Give me an order, you can do it.

“No problems there, she’s obviously bi.”

Yeah, I sound like a hick, spike me. I’m not getting into the whole orientation-terminology discussion right now.

“What about you, though.”

“ _I_ want to just chill out and do what my Master tells me to instead of thinking for a while. Play with me.”

I am not going to do this. I am not.

I so am.

“Then ask the captain if she still wants a show.”

Lyra looks up, but the captain speaks first, clearly having been waiting to say something.

«Three ges warning, you two.»

“NO! Dammit!”

“What? What’d she just say?”

Looking again, the captain is actually piloting now, busy with the controls and murmured exchanges with the copilot, and I can see our course twisting and turning through the window as we thread around swimmers and ships and geology.

«Thanks.»

“Our stop is in three ges, and um...I’m full of so much cum I can’t move. You’re actually holding in what I can’t swallow because I’m full.”

Swallow. Right, wasn’t I reflecting that it’s not a reprodutive organ?

“Wait, did I actually come as much as it felt like just now?”

“Yep. More, probably.”

“All that nectar. That’s why I’m still hard, too.”

Grind yum. “Do you still feel the like...Cheryl says nectar gives her a rush when she drinks a lot of it. Do you still feel the rush?”

It’s gotta be that, right?

“No, I just feel good. I definitely _did_ , before, though.”

“Holy fuck, it did. I totally fixed you! That’s supposed to take days! I guess if you drink days worth of nectar, though...”

“Fixed me?”

That sounds...sexily ominous.

It’s likely, I realize, that my life starting from that moment in my bed onwards is probably now composed mainly of sexily ominous.

Grind and grind god I love how I can make your eyes do that, so tasty.

“Weeeelll, it’s kind of a waaaste having to stop fucking just because you came, isn’t it? Nectar turns you into you, and you’re a total sex fiend.”

“Wait, so can I not...”

It’s hard to talk and be fucked by a succubus, especially when you’re worried about something that might actually be a kind of awesome horrible fate depending entirely on the circumstances and constant availability of healing nectar.

“..not get...”

“No, relax, you can, you just have to want to now. Probably. Everyone’s different. There’ll still be like some kind of physical limit because blood flow or whatever, but your body’s not going to stop us just because a baby could’ve theoretically got made if there was a nectar-starved human femme around, not anymore.”

“You’re trolling me.”

Grind, oops.

“Not on purpose if I am. I mean, even nectar-starved most cock-owning humans can do what you’re doing right now at least some of the time if they don’t have funny ideas about how sex is supposed to work. But all that nectar, it felt like you were gonna drink me up, I’ll bet anything it fixed you all at once.”

I want to thrust, slow, just for the feeling of it, but I can feel a bit leak whenever she grinds too much.

“If you’re right, we’re never going to do anything ever but have sex.”

“Oh. No. What a terrible. Fate. Just make sure you tie me up for some of it.”

“Heh. I can’t wait until we can really try this out.”

Twelve minutes, probably much less by now, and we’re only two major issues deep. Better push another on the stack.

“So am I going to have to carry you out the door? Can you...holy fuck.” And I’m lost for a moment, my face all smirk.

“What?”

“Don’t go...snrk...sorry...don’t go swimming for an hour after you eat. You know.”

Nnnnff, okay Master shaking with giggles inside me is hot, even if it does make me leak.

“Humf!” I will not giggle. I will not. 

Dammit.

_Something_ has changed in my biology - I can feel her laugh in her pussy where it grips me and normally being this hard it should feel like it’s pushing me toward orgasm, but it’s been only minutes since my last and it’s as if, hard as I am, that part just...isn’t ready at the moment. It will be, but for now I get a different, less urgent pleasure.

“Seriously, though.”

“I’m not, like, paralyzed, I just can’t move without leaking. Mrf.”

My cheeks are warm because I’m glowing, right? Definitely not blushing, nope, nosiree.

“Just gimme...” Yech. Okay, okay.

“I need a ges to transubstantiate some of this and then I can drink what you’re keeping in my cunt and we’ll be good. I _feel_ like I could take over for one of those Titans upstairs rowing right now.”

“Alright, alright. I suppose you are literally glowing.”

She regards her cleavage where it shines on my chest, the only part she can get a good look at other than her hands which stay pleasantly planted on my ass, keeping me in her.

“Anyway I’m sorry we missed performing for the captain aaaand I can’t believe I just said that.”

I balance on one hand for a moment so I can rub my face, embarrassed.

“So you wanna be somebody’s porn once in a while, what’s wrong with that? _I_ like to to show off, surprise surprise. She’s nice but it’s hardly like she’s gonna be our last interested audience.”

Glug...mmf, just cock now, so nice and hard, grind.

Hehe, that surprised you, didn’t it? I love it when you don’t have time to hide your pleasure before it gets you.

I just manage to master the end of the gasp her motion draws out of me.

“...whoah. Did your pussy just _lick_ me?”

“I swallowed, I think you felt the cum getting sucked up. I know I did...” Grin.

Oh my fuck your face right now...

“I think I can get up now. Please don’t make me move fast.”

“Just for the record, I could totally stay like this for the rest of time.”

“I know. So could I, Master. Soon we can, if we want.”

Well. Or now. I don’t think captain would actually mind having a new art installation.

But I miss my friennnnds ooh.

Pulling myself out of her while hard, even without the need to come, is a mental effort, and my hands are still slick with nectar, making it hard to—

“OOF!”

Oww. Master is _heavy_.

“Fuck, sorry, are you okay?”

Get up. I’ve slipped with all four limbs, collapsing onto Lyra, knocking the breath out of her and splashing us in the puddle of nectar we’ve made. It probably doesn’t help that every cubic centimeter of me is still burning with the rush of the orgasm, the hormones running so high my body feels somehow unfamiliar, testosterone overdose making me think I’ve been granted inhuman strength or something.

“Owie.”

Wait, holy fuck, how much did I...lemme up, I’ve gotta see this.

She shifts under me, trying to rise, so I roll off, careful not to try and actually get _up_ this time. Lying on my back, looking out over the other ‘floor’ of the bridge perpendicular to ours, gives a strange sense of being pinned to the wall like a piece of art as I’ve just done with Lyra and the pentagram.

“No, wait, don’t try to...”

Okay, now just carefully sit up and then get to my knees and I can fuck fuck eep OW. Ow why can’t Rocks be soft.

Fine then, sitting up, how much did we...oh my fuck. 

Omigod blush. “Holy fuck, I thought my wings felt soggy.”

“We made quite the mess, huh. How was all this inside you? Are you okay?”

We’re sitting in the middle of a puddle of nectar that fills most of our ‘floor’. I had thought Lyra’s scent was overwhelming me because we’d just had sex and my face was in her hair, but no, it’s filling the bridge.

“I’m fine. I had a _lot_ of cum to work with. I...”

Oooooh _fuck me_. Master.

What the...how? That should take days at least, how could...oh. I had a lot of cum, so much cum. Days worth, and I made days worth of nectar. Fuck me.

“Are dismissals always this intense?”

But I only had all that come because the nectar turned into it inside me, that couldn’t...duh. Conservation of mass is just conservation of energy with really big numbers, and once you’ve broken math itself, who cares how many zeroes don’t add up?

“Not usually, but every once in a while you get something that...yeah.”

That leaves your Master’s suddenly superhot body totally soaking in your sweat-reactive nectar, head to toe. Um...

The mental calculation is unstoppable, inevitable and involuntary as the orgasm that made it relevant.

The puddle is, what, a couple of gallons? Work from a litre and assume the specific gravity of water because I know that there’s ten petajoules in a kilogram of antimatter thank you too much scifi. Ten petajoules worth of nectar, over a period of...call it ten minutes ish, no idea how long we actually were coming for but it could have been. Make that five hundred seconds because I don’t have a calculator and divide joules by seconds, gives 2*10^14 W. Two hundred terawatts.

So, a good lower bound on the power of love is about fifteen hundred simultaneous Apollo launches or, about twelve times the current peak power output of human civilization on Earth.

I did _not_ just figure that out.

Also it’s probably a lot more, I drank much more than spilled and we’re not accounting for however much cum was generated...

Lyra’s looking at me, an echo of the desperate hunger from when I was tormenting her before on her face. Again? _I_ won’t complain.

“What?”

Oh. 

“Noooo that’s so mean!”

“Who says I’m being mean? Come have a lick before we go.”

Anyway, that will let me stall a little before I embarass myself trying to stand up again.

I’ve been stroking my cock, curious about the new sensations it’s capable of, making sure to let the nectar that still covers it string out a bit between my fingers and my tip once I remember what it will do to Lyra. Belatedly, I realize the captain might be looking on, and narrowly avoid getting tangled in that emotional morass instead of playing with Lyra.

Let her look, I’ll keep my eyes on the demon in front of me.

“I...I don’t know if I can stop once I start. I couldn’t before.”

“Wasn’t that the dismissal? It let me make you horny, I think.”

“No, I mean your hand on the raft.”

“You didn’t dive for my cock when you were done.”

“You had a pretty good distraction for me.”

“Are you likely to get to lick up this much again anytime soon?”

“No...”

“Are you hiding super strength or something? Will I be able to pull you off if I need to?”

“No, you’re officially stronger, I was fighting with everything I have back there and I couldn’t get your hands where I wanted, and I suppose I do kinda go all gooey when you grab my neck like you do...”

“Then get licking, you know you want to.”

You did not just...fuck. Well, guess I _have_ to, now. Yum...

Her tongue is warm soft heaven on my shaft, soothing, making the peaceful place that happens after an orgasm into something comfortingly sexual, and then gloriously fearful: I’m accustomed to the end of an orgasm meaning slamming konachan or tumblr closed and retreating guiltily into sleep, diving desperately into that place of nonsexual satedness, my lust quieted for another night, and that is...not how I work anymore. Nectar turns you into yourself, and what am I, really? It’s not a lack of desire to keep looking for a bit that makes me killnine my browser as soon as I’ve got fingers clean enough.

I stripped her bare, just now, peeled away all the governers and self-control that hold the supernova of lust at the center of her demon soul in check, but she’s been returning the favor, doing something just as momentous and much more permanent to me, revealing something not that different in the depths of my soul, and I have to convince myself it’s the red lighting irritating my eyes as I blink the tears out of them realizing that as I stand naked in the path of that terrible want it just feels like finding a long missing piece of myself, something that should have always been there slotting into place and bringing me to life like some vital organ I’ve been missing all my life.

My body reflects it now and makes it unavoidable, but the truth is I would still have been this without a drop of nectar. This me, the lustful, sex-obsessed one whose existence I’ve fought so hard, is the one Lyra loves best. Everything about her is built around drawing it out of me.

“...mmf...aw...love you, too...”

“Huh?”

She’s totally relaxed, tail limp between her legs and curled lazily around my ankle, wings spread over my legs like starry blankets. The angle makes it hard to see, but they seem to glow brighter than the rest of her and if she weren’t looking so comfortable I’d ask...order her to raise them while she plays.

“...tastes all...you’re so...happy...aw...mmm...”

You can pet my head but first we’re going to find out if there’s any nectar on the hand you’re reaching for me with aaand that’s a yes, slurp. Sheesh, you like this almost as much as having your cock licked. Slutty humans, gotta love ‘em. Slutty Master, even better.

Now, back to licking and petting, so nice...purr...

WHAT.

“Did you just purr?”

I’ve been petting her head, lost in the (admittedly a bit tangly at the moment) softness of my hand in her hair, stroking her as she licks me clean, but now she’s looking up with wide, embarrassed eyes, one hand to her mouth.

It was a real, actual purr from deep inside her body, not just an affectionate sound made with her mouth (her tongue being clearly occupied).

“I...I dunno...I...that’s new...I just...you taste good and the nectar tastes good and I feel so peaceful and you’re all loved and it’s making your energy so soothing and...mrr...”

Dammit there’s still ALL OF THIS NECTAR like half a hand from my face, I’m trying to be horrified here.

Lyra’s glancing between my face and my cock, indecisive between humiliation and lust (hunger?), when there’s a polite cough above us, and I look up to see one empty circle and two solid ones, bright red light floating in space above the captain’s head.

The message is simple enough: Two ges left, hurry up.

Movie style holography, opaque images projected on thin air, only slightly more possible than artificial gravity or ignoring thermodynamics. The smallest things, in any other circumstance, I’d spend hours investigating.

Huh?

But, nectar.

Oh. Tick tock. He’s an illusionist? Or can you get that red with porting ink? It’d be tricky making it float like that, but maybe that’s their PA system. Bet I could figure it out if I could read his...panels...dammit nectar that smells so....nmmmf...oh man balls can hold so much nectar in all these folds, must lick them all...

That’s one of those meaningful head-pets. What. Oh. Time. Argh. Just one more...okay, fine, fine. You know, I might be less naughty if getting manhandled wasn’t so much fun.

Okay, officially figuring out ways to make you look at me like that more. Neep.

I have her by one horn, held just out of reach of my cock where we’d both prefer her to be, but it’s time to go.

“Do I have to tie you up?”

Not that this would actually annoy me.

“You don’t have anything to tie me with.”

Pokity poke come on do something interesting if I’m not going to get any more nectar.

“Oh no?”

The sword’s strap: ornate with buckles, five of them. Four segments, and the part attached to the scabbard. I can count, and I can do geomtry: each segment is just about the right length.

I pull at one buckle, pointedly.

You _did_ figure it out. When did you figure it out? Not that there was a chance to use ‘em before the raft.

But first I have to actually get up, which means letting Lyra go temporarily.

“Be good.”

“Yes Master.”

Lyra watches, tail lashing (the shaft is dark, but the barb glows with a dense constellation that zips around the dark bridge like a demented fairy), from where she lays on her stomach, as I very carefully climb to my feet, and then lets me pull her up to where I face her away from me, drawing her arms back behind her so I can cross her wrists just above the base of her tail, which I grab...

Oh my fuck.

...and loop around her wrists where they cross, pulling it back under itself in a sort of desultory knot, making sure the barb gets a lot of attention as I push it through. It’s not going to hold as real bondage, especially since her tail is probably animate enough to just unloop itself, but the giggling look on her face as she peers over her shoulder at me is worth it.

“Does that hurt?”

“Hehe...no, it can bend around pretty good.”

Oh my fuck I can’t belive...hehe...I’d ask for some upper arm support but you’re just gonna have to undo it in a couple of swings anyway.

I grab the extra few inches, keeping her from unlooping.

“Good. Spread your wings.”

Look back to give you a nice slutty smile.

“...rather spread my legs, Master.”

Best lines. Do you do these on purpose? I mean, seriously.

“Oh, you will. Wings.”

Okay, okay...whoah.

Spinning her around to tie her up has us both facing the window, and she gasps at her reflection in the unglass as she turns - in the red darkness, only her stars reflect, picking out her form like an actual constellation, and then her body fades into view just at the edge of sight as her wings open with brilliant purple nebulae in the background of their constellations, illuminating us both. One of her arms struggles, distantly: her wide-eyed expression, outlined in stars in the glass, isn’t complete without a nail bitten in awkward wonder.

“You are so beautiful.”

Aw. “Thanks, Master.”

Oh my...I’m...wow. Maybe this power isn’t so cheesy after all.

«I thought I’d come see you out...»

GAH Sade’s Balls woman get some heels or something so people can hear you walk!

«Sorry, did I interrupt a—Sade’s Tits, what’d you do to him? I thought his ass just looked nicer when he’s fucking!»

«No fair, I still haven’t seen it! We got a dismissal that...well, sorry, about the mess. But he drank more than spilled.»

«So I see...you’re looking pretty good too. New power?»

«Yeah...just found it.»

«It’s beautiful. Ready to go? I’d rather have you both stay around and pretty up my bridge, but I’m not going this far out of my way and then missing your dropoff. And forget the mess, the rocks needed a bath, and your scent is amazing. My pet can barely see straight for it, I don’t think he’ll mind cleaning up after you.»

I...mrf. Glowing, not blushing. Definitely just really glowing lots just most especially on my face and cunt...fuck. I so was not gonna think about that, don’t think about that, there’s no way, we’re not even inside yet that’s going to take months to work out fucking fuck...

Lyra’s still rapt, checking out her reflection. I can’t blame her for talking to the captain without looking away.

“Time to go?” I can just make out the reflection of the captain’s silhouette coming up behind us, lit with Lyra’s light, still bare, then she’s standing between us and the window, off to one side, hand on a hip.

I let Lyra’s tail free. Something about the interaction feels like the captain has walked up on us actively having sex and there’s a weird thrill in this as I let go: it would have been more fun to keep her bound as we socialized, but I’ve reflexively stopped.

“...yeah...”

Okay, other topic. Other things are sexy too. Overcharge, dark room, mirrored headboard, cowgirl. Cowgirl in those glowing restraints Ozzie has, hands bound in _front_ so we can both see.

Come on, mirrored headboard, you can do it, Hall.

Mirrored headboard and then that one diamond pentagram in the middle of the Obsidian Ballroom, in the middle of an eclipse...dammit! Nrg!

Free hands? Oh. Yeah, coming.

“That was more than ‘time to go’.”

“She says we look superhot. And um...I smell good.”

Mrf.

Grabbing my arms again, what are you...oh fuck, you really mean this, whatever you’re doing. Arms behind me, yes Master, god damn that grip is like one of the statues holding onto me, okay I’m not going anywhere now. Unf.

“Tell her to have a good look before we go, then.”

But I thought...okay, yes Master...

I would think that Lyra’s body language in my hands turns just a hair bashful as she translates, but that would require there to be a shred of modesty in anywhere in her.

In response, the captain drags her eyes over Lyra’s form (not that she’s been keeping them off other than to make eye contact while talking, but this is a real and properly pointed ogle), licking her lips lustfully, the hand that was on her hip drifting to brush her mound...

Snifsnif...definitely overlord, definitely a really wicked sadist. Heh, I bet you and Master could really...dammit, will not...could really have some fun with me between the two of you.

“I think she wants to...”

I nod, at the captain, who pegs her eyes on Lyra’s breasts and takes an outer lip between thoughtful fingers and then, just as the part of me that scrambles for ctrl+c as I realize I’ve written and launched a program that will hard-crash my machine by doing something terrible with graphics drivers parses what I said and the fact that Lyra will have translated it faithfully, takes me - what she can see of me, standing behind Lyra - in just as lustfully, hand still on her cunt.

I can feel like meat, the main problem with which is that it’s uncomfortably pleasant for some reason, or I can return the captain’s stare and get distracted by the sleekness of her form and the way her shaved- or waxed- or most likely magicked-bare mound catches Lyra’s purple glow where her hand presses on it.

I’m not about to do this.

I am so about to do this.

Do I have hold of Lyra? Yes, she’s not going anywhere, however she struggles.

Is it safe? No STDs here, I’ve seen Lyra heal mortal wounds in minutes, the captain strikes me as...civilized, just for a very different value of civilization than I’m used to - if nothing else, she’s openly lusting after my lover without making me feel the least bit threatened.

And Lyra did _say_ straight out what she thinks, on the way in here.

And I want to do this, and the seed-ghost will have surely noticed I’d do something like this if given the chance, and that lights up an entire inner landscape I could otherwise never see, things half-buried and barely formed, things not yet understood, delusions of normalcy illuminated by the purple glow of Lyra’s impending meteor strike. In another life I might manage decades of denial, but the seed-ghost saw right through me and left Lyra with the knowledge. She’s understood since...the beginning, probably. Since that moment in my room. She’s been telling me the whole way, we even used it to _steal a car_.

And that means...what? That she’ll like this? That she _won’t_? It means that she’ll be able to take it, because she was made for this.

I said to myself that I was a monster, before, but the truth is that I’ve still been clinging to a last shred of humanity, imagining that our relationship is somehow merely an advanced case of marriage, of ‘honor and obey’ taken just a little past the moral event horizon, but it’s not, because advanced cases of marriage don’t include my pulling Lyra backward into me so that my thigh forces her legs open and thrusts out her hips, and nodding offeringly at the captain.

“Tell her she can have a taste of you if she wants.”

Human or not, Lyra’s not my girlfriend, or my wife, or anything like that. She’s just...mine.

And I’m proud of her, and want to show off.

Wait, what? Woo! I thought...but...seriously? You’re going to share me with literally the first person we’ve met here? Okay...I mean she is pretty...I just didn’t think...fuck, how do I word it? Fucking fuck word for taste what’s the word for taste!

Fuck, I don’t understand this, we’re Hollow Hearts, how can we...oh. _Oh_. Oh my god, I actually found you. That missing piece thing isn’t a metaphor. I found you and now we can...

Oh my fuck, Master...

Lyra’s hesitating, but the captain gets the message without words, and steps closer, making an unmistakable two-fingered gesture with a questioning expression: you’re offering a touch?

I nod.

If something is yours, you can decide who may use it, and how. Lyra is a person, not a thing, but she is _mine_ , and something tears inside me, some limit letting go, as I shift my grip to arch her back and present her hips more, like I’m literally seeing her differently, brighter or more vivid somehow.

She looks back at me, and we lock eyes for a moment...

Boo, not the hand with the rings? Now I _really_ have to get Master some rings like that...

You look...oh my god, I can _see_ you getting it, I can see you seeing it. I so totally thought the dilating pupils thing was just in porn! You see and you really believe it and this is going to get interesting, isn’t it. 

And I can _taste_ you getting it....oh god yes I’m yours I’m yours to share I hope I make you proud just keep on getting it holy fuck I need this lust I’ll do anything to make you feel this way.

I’m yours, what’re you going to do with me?

Sniff. Mmm, the captain smells good, not just her lust, she...ooh, mm, girl fingers are so soft between my lips, oh my god, she’s _goooooood_ , fuck this makes me wet...well, wetter...

...and then hers narrow in pleasure at the captain’s touch and she takes on a breathless look with just-parted lips that’s lustful, or loving, or fearful, or all three.

I’m a monster. The wires of love and ownership are crossed inside me. I can’t do one without the other coming along, but the power they carry somehow multiplies when combined. Be mine, and I’ll love you with a passion that casts shadows on the surface of the sun. The only price is, you really have to belong to me. I have to look at you and see something that’s my responsibility to care for, and mine to do with as I please.

I keep Lyra’s gaze for a moment, watching her eyes as the captain fingers her. Such beautiful eyes.

“Look at her while she enjoys you.”

Holy fuck okay there I hope you don’t mind a sub looking you in the eye while you play with her captain oh that little smile I guess not but...nnh...boo. Don’t you wanna play some more?

Oh. Fingers in her mouth, those are the fingers that were just in me, and she’s loving the taste to look at that expression, mrf, don’t lick your lips at me when we’re standing in a puddle of my nectar, I’m already...mrf...

Oh my fuck, Master’s lust, and captain’s lust, and Master’s strong hands, and captain’s _skills_ , oh my fuck this is amazing I can be a little embarrassed for this.

She likes. Are you proud of me, Master?

«Mmm, I can see how you ended up with a wellspring dismissal. Tell him you taste even better than you smell.»

I...

The way the captain licks her fingers and then smirks at Lyra tells me my generosity is definitely appreciated.

“What’s she say?”

Translation. Um...mrf...

But the captain’s already jerking her head in the universal let’s-go gesture and walking off, so I let Lyra free and give her a pat on the ass to set her moving.

“More show, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of watching you walk.”

“Yes Master.”

I’ll know I’ll never get tired of you watching, I can taste that from here.

She takes a step, but feeling some need to connect I think better of it and grab her upper arm, twisting her around to face me with hazy, lustful eyes, an expression I can’t help but kiss softly on the lips.

“You make me proud.”

She still doesn’t say anything, but the fanged nakedness of her smile in response is better than any words that could ever be spoken.

I...aw...I love you too, Master.

The captain’s stopped, looking at us with a raised eyebrow. Yes, fine, coming, just busy checking on the girl I just let you finger, sheesh.

“Alright, off you go.”

But I don’t follow, because Lyra walking away from this doesn’t seem quite right, and I have an idea.

If how I’m feeling about her right now doesn’t count as Taking Hold, I don’t think anything does. I let her and the captain get a few steps further, then turn to the window, raising my hand.

By the elements, by the gods, by the bond that makes you mine, Lyra I summon you—

Whoof what—oooh. Ooh, you’ve got the putting lust into a summoning thing, hell yes, I thought those others turned me on.

Okay, I can be bound. Mmm...

I can catch a glimpse, in the reflection beside my hand around Lyra’s neck again, of the captain standing watching us with folded arms and an impatient expression, but ignore her. This won’t be but a moment.

Oooh yes please hello Master I love you Master

And I wanted to spend a moment, just a moment, watching her face as I slip my fingers between her helpless thighs and into her wet, slippery cunt.

Would that there was time for a dismissal, but no. Instead I just put my hands on her waist and pull, willing the binding I’ve created to just break, and it does with an almost physical snapping, pulled apart by my wish to be the thing holding her helpless, and she wraps around me, clinging, head laid on my shoulder.

My reflection is strange and unfamiliar in Lyra’s purple glow, something different in my face, what musculature I have made to look almost sculpted by the light’s angle with Lyra so close to me...

I set Lyra, carefully, on her feet, and she stands, looking at me with muzzy curiosity.

“Open your wings. Light me up.”

I need better lighting, because I’m pretty sure the person reflected in front of the looming Falls isn’t me.

“Yes Master.”

My muscles burned. My body feels unfamiliar, too strong. Lyra and the captain are both looking at me in a way they didn’t before. I reach a hand toward the window, and the reflected stranger reaches back, mirroring me perfectly.

“Is this real?”

“D-” Oh. Can’t talk and bite my thumb at the same time. Please like it Master. Please like what I did to you. I couldn’t control it, you took...

“Do you like it? You like it, right?”

It’s not an answer to the question I asked, but I don’t need one, because I can look down at myself, and see the accuracy of the reflection.

My skinny-teenager body has filled out to a sort of taut solidity. Muscles that were before overstrained wires or untoned bands have become thick cables, hard as steel when I tense them and run my hand over what I had taken before as a trick of the strange lighting. Bad guestimation tells me I’ve gained at least a hundred pounds, which - not even accounting for however much come Lyra drank - adds enough zeroes to my previous calculation to take us well into Kardashev Type I: intelligent life manipulating energy equal to the total instantaneous solar absorption of an Earthlike planet.

I want to ask if Lyra likes the changes, but if I understand incubation I already know the answer and she _is_ definitely looking at me with a sharper-edged hunger than usual.

My skin feels different as I touch it, in some undefinable way that I’d chalked up to being covered in nectar that seems not to ever dry or evaporate, more sensitive or softer or _something_.

Fuck, I haven’t even had a proper look at this.

I’ll tell you, _I_ sure like it. I mean, I liked you before, but you’re all...solid now, like one of the statues or something. All strong with all the power under the surface so you don’t look gross. Just a nice little hint of abs and that beginning of a gut’s nowhere to be found, this is amazing.

And your face, your eyes were dark before but now they’re...eep... _and_ you’ve already gained at least five years.

Hehe. That one’s gonna fuck with your head when you look close enough to see it. I can’t wait.

“Days worth of nectar.”

“More like months, I think. That was a completely insane dismissal. Viktor’s gonna freak.”

“Another friend?”

“Kinda. Person most impressed with my liturgical engineering skills.”

“Is this...will I keep changing?”

“I dunno, it’s just turning you into yourself, but yourself can change. Things might be a little interesting until you really understand who you are.”

...but what am I? Sexily ominous indeed. At least there’s no sign of tentacles.

Yet.

“Has this been...when you seemed so light on the raft, that was...”

“There’s not much to me but lungs and pussy, but I don’t weigh _that_ much less than a human girl. It was already working on you then.”

But this has gone far beyond where I was on the raft. How strong am I now? 

Well, there’s one good test of strength handy. Pulling Lyra to me by the wrists, I lift her into my arms with one hand under her ass and the other pulling her face-to-face with me and almost fall with the unexpected ease of it. She wasn’t kidding, now that I pay attention: there’s a sense of mass to her body that seems right for a creature of flesh and bone her size, but lifting that weight is almost effortless, and the only thing that makes shifting her so that she nestles cooingly against my side supported by one hand under her butt at all difficult is the triple unfamiliarity of the action itself, the strength and new dimensions of my body and limbs, and the need to work around her tail and wings. When we’re settled, her weight against me feels no heavier than a biggish laptop bag. I could carry her miles this way, and with this body walk megaparsecs.

And then more: she’s tricky to hold onto with both of us still being largely covered in nectar, but I can manage it easily by sheer brute force.

The captain says something in Infernal that from the tone has got to be “Okay, now seriously come on.", and so we head - carefully at first so we don’t slip, and then hurrying through the gravity change and up the stairs and back along the length of the ship.

This time I don’t make any effort not to watch the captain’s pretty ass as we walk.

Pro: carried by big strong megastuffie Master.

Con: can’t watch Master walk. At least I can kinda get a look at the captain...

“I taste even better than I smell.”

“I agree.”

When we crest (reach the bottom of? I understand now that this deck’s local ‘up’ faces the ship’s keel) the stairs, the tenor of the aftercare deck has changed since we were there: more people sleep, while the remainder seem somewhat more woken from whatever dream gripped them before, whispering together or packing interesting-looking toys or what I take for bondage gear into various containers.

“No, that’s what the captain was saying.”

«By the way, what’s the language you two speak? I swear I’ve heard it before.»

«English. It’s annoying, got all the usual lost-planet fails. I’m gonna teach him Infernal as soon as...»

That’s the inspired dom face. Why is she making the inspired dom face?

«You said his planet’s mononormative, too. Badly? Prescriptivism?»

Aaand that’s me caught checking out the captain’s ass by the captain. Mrf.

«Yeah, why?»

The captain hands me my towel again as we approach the stern-end of the deck, having plucked it from where it fell while I was distracted.

«And he’s your incubator, right?»

«I damn well wouldn’t go hunting on a lost planet for anyone else.»

«Does the Hall show up in their afterlife mythology?»

«Kinda, you know how it goes.»

«Very. Okay, just curious. Anyway, this is it, good luck, you two. Dream dark, dream deep, dream bright.»

Huh? Oh, we’re stepping into the airlock again.

«Oh and, if the doorwardens seem to be waiting for anyone, it’s probably you. Bye!»

Wait, you did not just—

«I—he doesn’t—»

Clang.


	15. Locked From The Inside

Fuck! Fuck you, I didn’t consent to this, you sneaky bitch! Aw fuck, it’s really not my consent that matters anymore, is it? We really did pull off a Rite by accident! How in the hell did she guess you like that?

Well, I’m strapped in now. I’ve gotta say, there’s nothing so final as an airlock door shutting. Somebody oughtta figure out how to use that kind of lock for bondage gear.

“What were you guys talking about?”

“Um, when we get inside, things might get a little interesting, I think we’re going to get another oldschool welcome. I’m sorry, I was gonna...”

Her words are lost in the rush of water as the airlock fills, and I gasp and then seize the instinct, hyperventilating as much as I can while there’s still air to be had, my heart pounding with an unaccustomed force that would be terrifying if it didn’t also feel unstoppably strong: it takes a lot of blood to keep all this muscle mass going, but I haven’t just been made pretty, my whole system’s upgraded.

A soft, demonic hand fumbles for my wrist as the water closes over our heads and I grasp hers in return and then hear the metal shriek of the outer door opening and we’re free, rushing for a moment through the water with the ship’s speed before I can fight my eyes open and look around as Lyra starts swimming, pulling us toward...

Yikes, dust we’re far, is Master going to make it? Hopefully he’ll have the sense to take a drink of me if not, but, jeez. Why in the actual fuck did she not drop us off along the length, it’s not like I’m alone this time, Master should be able to hack the dynamic entry just fine domly as he is...

Yeah, if he knew what dynamic entry was. Fuckaduck. I knew there was something other than summoning we needed to be learning before, but I was so...it’s been so long since I had a real scene...rgh. Well, this should be fun.

Dear god, the scale.

I’d thought the rocks must be huge, as we approached, but I’d had no idea. They really are mountains floating in the Sea, miles, tens of miles, long, already looming above and around us as we swim deeper into the valley ferry has disgorged us into. Over most of the Hall as we saw it from the bridge before buildings and statues and eerie-glowing windows dotted the more natural-looking rocks, but these are raw and unformed, huge asteroids of the black-slivered stone that seems to dominate this part of the Hall.

And we’re falling...no. We’re in freefall...no. There’s simply no gravity. How could there be? If gravity worked right here, the Sea would collapse into a black hole of unspeakable proportions. The ship carried its own gravity, and on the surface we must have been subject to some similar effect, but here deep in the Sea, there’s just no pull. The dropping sensation I felt during our first dive wasn’t Lyra’s strength at swimming, it was that we were really weightless.

It’s like falling...

We’re headed, I believe, into the tip or mouth of the whole formation, joined by hundreds of terrible beautiful monsters and humans - there’s a definite flow to traffic, whatever we’re heading toward is clearly only an entrance and not an exit, but it’s lost in the shimmering white foam of the waterfall below us. More insult to physics: the waterfall is strangely shaped, motion in the backlit spray picking out an exponentially curving depression below and before us, circling around a sort of center-point equidistant from the mountains around us, and I can understand why the captain wasn’t able to drop us off closer as around us the other swimmers brace against each other or fold wings more delicate-seeming than Lyra’s as the current seizes us all, drawing down into the—

Oh. Oh _fuck_...

Yeah, put your arms around me, hold my wings down, the Throat’s kind of dangerous for wings but you seem to get that thank Sade.

Hold on tight Master, here we gooooooo...

It’s been far longer than it would have taken before, but my lungs are finally starting to burn, the water around us starting to feel claustrophobic.

I manage to get Lyra clutched in my arms just in time for the current to grab us with a force that feels surreally less like falling because we’re now under acceleration but is no less terrifying for it as the speed takes us and bubbles and mist begin to fill the water, clouding vision and then we’re tumbling in the turbulence and rushing along a dizzying path that feels curved but could simply be an effect of the vertigo and then the current’s acceleraction is gone as quickly as it came and we’re just plummeting, rushing along with so much mist it doesn’t always even feel like we’re properly underwater, the turbulence and transitions between water and air pockets a deafening roar as we’re falling, falling, somehow I know it’s actual falling and not just a lack of gravity as we plummet for terrifying long seconds, long enough for me to begin to believe that we really are falling through space to our death and instinctively I want to draw my legs up under myself so that I won’t feel them shatter before I die and then—

More vertigo, changing light and sudden crushing acceleration but no hard surface and then AIR glorious blessed air and I take a chokingly spray-filled breath that’s as violent and involuntary as an orgasm as we rocket into empty space and then fall back, splashing into a roiling cauldron where we must surely be dragged under to our deaths battered against some rock or another but instead the upwelling drives us instantly back to the surface and then another far less powerful current takes us, pulling us along the surface - there is a surface now - to be buffeted with surprising gentleness against something hard and angular but kindly round-edged: polished stone. I reach out a blind hand and find that there’s a cusp or lip to take hold of—

“WOO!”

Wow, that really is a rush, I can see why people bother with it.

Oh, poor Master, that actually scared you soft. It’s okay baby we’re safe now, see?

—and let us float there clinging to the edge for long gasping, panting minutes, envying Lyra’s lack of need for oxygen and apparent knowledge of what we were in for. My eyes are open but all I can take in is the still-turbulent water surface and Lyra’s face before me, questing for a kiss that I take, calming my nerves on her nectar for long moments before I can look around.

Omigod Rocks, real rocks, the real actual Hall, omigod I wanna fuck the rocks I’m so homesick. I’m so actually gonna do it, too, that one statue underneath Ozzie’s place, Master’ll love it. Nnnf, lemme have a hand free so I can touch the rocks, holy fuck HOME!

Oh home. 

Oh fuck, the big gate’s closed. She really did. Bitch! Maybe we can sneak in one of the side-doors?

Lyra looks with me when I free her lips, gaze cast upward, expression...worried? She’s stopped literally glowing, but she looks happy and somehow healthier than I’ve seen, her skin glossier with a vitality that isn’t Seawater or superpowers, her stars glittering like little dark gems. 

We’re at the edge of a huge circular pool that churns and bubbles at the center, water upwelling and then rushing to the edge, slowing as it goes until it gently pours over through channels at intervals around the rim. Light glows, shimmering, from within the pool, and though I can’t see it I understand: we were pulled into an inside-out whirlpool that drops into this pool from the other side and the pool isn’t a bowl but a ring, gravity manipulation holding the water in place so that the surface we’ve erupted from is the depth to which the whirlpool hammered us.

The pool is carved from living rock, hanging in space, held by four statues that are - how big? My mind is rejecting the scale as impossible, but even knowing that I can’t guess. Thousands of feet tall? Behind them, hazy with spray and roaring the like beginning or end of the world are the Falls we saw the back of before, huge waterfalls that fill the gaps between the mountains, falling ponderously upwards along the line of the statues’ height, reflecting the glow of brilliant white lights that shine from behind the polished black stone of the statues, refracting through spray and water to fill the the space with the dangerous, impending grey light of a thunderstorm’s climax.

Two are male, two are female. One of each gender stands towering over us, one hand upraised, the other reaching down to grasp the rim of the pool, supporting it, their faces burning with a smirking, wicked expression. One of each gender kneels, upside down relative to the standing statues, arms stretched upward to support the pool, heads bowed in submission, faces fearful and...excited. They’re all four like the statues we saw in the sea, unflinchingly detailed and unabashedly aroused.

Below us, above us, the status raise a hand to support, kneel upon, the front of a building - it must be a building, it’s clearly engineered, but it’s the size of a mountain - encrusted with more stone-orgy statuary, an odd design with flat, dully-reflective panels in various shapes almost like bas-reliefs bordered by the statues so that the entire edifice is faceted with panels joined by stone flesh caught mid-writhe. The shape is liquid, branching through the space to meet the mountains or extend through the waterfalls like an explosion of something viscous but that the central mass or source isn’t visible from here if it exists, and the obvious metaphor seems somehow too specific as if there’s something deeper that and this are both referencing.

Waterfalls plummet from the edge of the pool we float in to buffet against the building and then pour away, washing over the carvings and finding channels among the limbs and bodies that would seem impossible if this place were anything but a monument to the mockery of gravity.

Iron-colored chains with links tens of feet thick team with stone buttresses carved into reaching statues or suggestive abstract shapes to suspend the building. They project gigantic, multiple looming shadows through the misty air like inverse godrays, betraying the presence of what must be the rows of lights we saw first looking through the window of the ferry.

Above us, ringed by a swell of statuary that leads the eye back and back to it, is a huge gate - it must be a gate, for the cylinders of hinges at its edges and seam down the center - of the same dully-gleaming material as the flat panels, a lopsided ellipse curvingly pointed at both ends like an eye - there’s no ‘down’, so no flat bottom, though that doesn’t make it impassable: the standing statues each reach a hand to one point, while the kneeling statues kneel close so that when the panels open they’ll lay across their knees, making a bridge. The statues are walkways, dotted with multicolored specks that resolve now into people walking along them, each with their own mutually incompatible but perfectly-logical seeming definition of down according to the rock they stand on.

More specks curve through the air, aiming for the gates, some close or large enough to show spread wings: swimmers who have become flyers.

Natural gravity, indeed. Gravity growing wild.

The water falling over the edge, the people and monsters walking or standing or playing on every surface...it’s a scifi proverb that there’s no up or down in space, and I’d have thought that would have prepared me for this, but it doesn’t. There’s not simply no up or down here, it’s as if the place really is designed specifically to mock the concepts. Some of the waterfalls spill over the edge to drop back in the direction I’m beginning to understand Lyra and I fell from, contradicting those that fall toward the building, while still others fall askew, curving to spiral around the great statues as they drop into the sky or abyss or cavern.

“Pretty cool, huh?”

“This is unbelievable. How did this even get built?”

If there are any seams in the stone, they’re invisible, hidden by scale or skill or both...could there be? The only way to make this stand, gravity or not, would be to carve it from solid rock. I’m not sure on the material science, but I’m guessing even then you’d need strength and elasticity not found in anything ceramic on earth, too.

“Nobody knows. Well, nobody young enough you can talk to them knows. Some stone-choir’s art project, most people figure.”

Stone-choir? I need to start making a list.

Releasing Lyra, I pull myself out of the water with an ease that shocks me and almost drops me back: I’d expected the usual awkward effort, but I have the strength now to spring out, just not the skill to do it deftly.

Ridiculously, I’m still clutching the towel, so I wring it out, my new strength making the fabric creak threateningly and actually leaving me with an only-damp cloth to wrap around my waist.

Whee! Glomp!

I do at least manage to make drawing Lyra - light as a feather, I’m glad she’s an unbreakable monster because I think she’s going to need to be - up to where she throws arms around my neck to embrace for a moment before dangling off me, grinning.

“You got _strong_!”

Whoah, wheee! Hehe!

By way of reply, I sweep her into my arms and am grateful for the newfound strength that gives me the power to shift my grip mid-sweep and get the arm I have under her back untangled from her wings and against her flesh before I hurt them.

Now if I can just slip my tail in between...there, wrapped up the arm that’s got my legs, like it should be. Yum.

“So I’m guessing we’re headed for the gates?”

“Your choice, Master.”

Hah! Beat you to it, pillow-stuff.

“I want to see where you live.”

Yeah, we can go in the side doors, and then never stop hearing about how we blew off our hero’s welcome for all the rest of time. Blergh.

I just...fine. I’m sure you’ll love this, anyway.

“Gates it is, then.”

“Is there some kind of symbolism to which statue we take?”

It’s very much one of those meaningful places.

“Tons, but everyone thinks something different so you may as well just pick what you like.”

I mean it would help if I at least knew _what_ ritual they’re setting up with the gates shut like that, up there.

Should I feel bad about picking the masucline dominant statue (it’s not like the symbolism is subtle) because it’ll give me a better view of the femme statues? Where does fidelity stand in a world where I did what I just did with the captain and Lyra?

Anyway, we’ve surfaced near its hand, so that will be my reason.

I set a foot against a thumb the size of a house, and sure enough, the world pivots seamlessly around us as I traverse the curves, the statue’s local gravity always pulling us normal (I’m going to need new geometric terminology, nothing in here is normal) to the patch of stone I’m standing on, and then nearly fall anyway (where would we fall to, if I lost my footing? What’s ‘down’?), startled by the unmistakeable blinding blue-white flash of lightning followed maybe a half-second later by a reverberating whipcrack of thunder that echoes around the statues and rocks for what feels like minutes before dying away. 

“Holy fuck!”

“Cool, huh?”

“There’s a _thunderstorm_ in here?”

There is, admittedly, room.

“Yeah. Well. Sorta, it’s some kinda thing with the waterfalls and the air being trapped. Don’t worry, though, there’s metal in the statues that keeps it from striking people somehow, like a sexier target or whatever. It’s just here to look cool.”

“This place has lightning as an _architectural feature_.”

“Yeah, fucking metal, right?”

“I can see why you wanted to come in this way.”

I guess this is kinda me.

“You like it? It’s near home but this is kinda the good front door.”

“If it wasn’t for you and the Sea, I’d say this was the most amazing thing I’d ever seen.”

We’re properly out onto the statue’s arm, now, a broad bridge still vertiginous for the abyss it slopes down to on our left and right. More flyers zip past, blurred shapes and specks falling or diving incongruously fast for the gates along the length of the statues or spiralling around them, using the unreasonable gravity to bend their path as they plummet.

“I’m sorry I didn’t want you to be able to actually fly.”

“Huh?”

I nod to a flyer who’s just passed, going so fast I can’t even make out the method of flight.

“Oh, dynamic entry. That’s for doms, you should be able to do it pretty good. I’d feel weird if I could.”

“I’m thinking you’re not making a tvtropes reference.”

Hehe. “Nope, it’s like... you just kinda think something up, jumping from one rock to another or whatever, and if it’s cool enough the Hall will just let you do it. Takes a little practice, but it’s totally worth it. You’re going to learn, right? Please? Soon? It’s totally hot if you do it right.”

For this, I almost have to set her down for a moment to be properly incredulous.

“I’m sorry, did you just tell me I can fly if I think badass thoughts?”

“It not really flying, it’s more like...”

What? What is that face for?

She trails off.

“Say it. C’mon. Say it.”

“Say what?”

...or, shaking your head nevermind? Weird.

“Anyway, there’s more than jumping around, I mean the really good one is the thing with doors where you can open a door and have the other side be any door you want in the whole Hall so long as you make it look good enough. Saves hell of time, when you can pull it off. I hear it’s super hard, though, I guess it’s pretty tough to make opening a door look specially domly.”

All I can do is shake my head in response.

I’d say these laws of physics must have been designed by a fourteen-year-old, but making games at the age of fourteen I had occasion myself to design the physics for a couple of universes, and I never did anything this stupid.

Or this amazing.

But there’s something more important becoming apparent as we get nearer.

“Are we locked out?”

“Well, um.”

There is kind of a crowd gathering. Dammit. Go in the side doors, you idiots! We’re boring! Much better scenes to watch inside!

“Um?”

“So the captain might’ve slightly, um, announced our arrival. I’m not sure what’s gonna happen up there.”

“I’m surprised we’re this interesting, aren’t there millions of noobs every day?”

“Not coming from places like Earth, apparently.”

“Should we be worried?”

“No? Yes? Just...it’ll be like summoning. Be creative. If you can’t think of sometihng, ‘I’m curious’ is always a good answer. And remember not to freak out no matter how intense it gets the Rocks will still stop it if someone tries to do anything nonconsensual so we're safe.”

"Who are the Rocks?"

"No, like, the statues and stuff. They're alive and like...they make sure everyone's story is always noblebright. There's no like government here or anything, don't worry."

I reel a moment, trying to process that, wondering how to even start with all the questions it poses. I settle on one: "What happens if _we_  do something wrong?"

"Umum, same as everyone else? The Rocks stop it without hurting anyone? They kinda do whatever, statues get in your way or something like that. Don't worry, it's super safe!"

“You’re worried.”

“It’s just, it’s probably going to be kind of um, religious up there. Sorry.”

“Religious?”

“The captain was asking about what Earth thinks about the afterlife. I’m guessing it’s gonna have something to do with that, but I have no idea.”

“What did you tell her?”

“Nothing much, just how Hell tends to look like the Hall in Earthling religions. ‘swhat she wanted to know.”

We’re passing over the statue’s heart - or lack thereof - going from one arm to the other, the gates looming above us.

It’s not like I haven’t been thinking it the whole time, but hearing Lyra say it out loud makes somehow makes the thought real, makes me actually process the idea.

The gates of Hell.

Makes me try to process the idea, but it’s so huge, this place is so epic, the gravity (doesn’t work that way, hah) of everything we’ve done this night is so tremendous, that instead of processing all that momentousness my brain just glitches out and thinks of something completely ridiculous instead. Maybe it’s the lightning, or maybe I’m just finally cracking under the strain, or maybe it’s Lyra’s sense of humor rubbing off on me, but what I actually think of is this old Youtube meme, a video of a band called Arcattack who’d built thirty-foot Tesla coils with the driver circuits modified to accept input from an electric guitar. The video was them playing Iron Man, on metal guitars, dressed head to toe in chainmail (so that they could safely stand in the path of the coils’ arcs), using lightning as an amp, and the joke was that it was physically impossible to be more metal than that.

Well. We’ll see about that. I have an idea.

Whoah, oh fuck, wait, no, color, that’s gotta be illusion. Jeez guys, even I want a trigger warning if you’re gonna make statues move, you had me thinking a titan was getting nonconsensual for a second.

Two statues, standing up. I know the Emperor when I see him, throne or not, but who’s all sexy-femme and naked and curvy and subby looking with the sparkly hair and the water pouring off her...hands...and...oh my fuck.

I don’t have sparkles, I have stars.

So help me Sade, if that bitch gave any more details than enough to pick the Star and then make the Star’s water come right from her hands instead of pitchers, I’m turning back into a seed - I’ll find a way, dammit - and crawling back into Master’s head and never coming out ever again. MRF.

I suppose at least it’s nice to have someone message our archetypes ahead so the guardians will be to both our taste (omigod I love being able to assume that), though I swear the Star’s kind of...familiar...somehow....MRF.

The figures that stand now, one on either side of the gate-point we’re headed for, look tiny in the landscape, but must be huge, giants thirty feet tall or more. On our left, an old-seeming man, white-bearded and black-cloaked, jagged evil-overlord crown on his head. Even from here his eyes look like the oldest things in the place, and I’m currently giving the building at least six digits of age, but his expression is more kindly than severe. On our right, a woman, strikingly humanly flesh-toned in comparison to Lyra’s monstrous skin or the man’s monochromatic way, her bareness revealing a body that mirrors Lyra’s curvaciously soft build, her face sweet and as young as the man’s is old, but with that same timelessness behind her eyes.

I’ll say this, though: whoever’s projecting these isn’t bad, water’s hard to do. Making it pool under her like that and reflect right must be a real bitch.

Nice job with the eyes, too, you’d think they actually were as old as the archetypes.

As we approach, they climb down or up to the outstretched hand at the end of the arm we’re traversing, coming together in front of the gate’s point that I can see now is actually a squared-off threshold maybe ten or twenty feet wide.

When they meet, she sits at his feet, clutching one of his legs but facing outwards and they both turn their gaze to watch us approach. The water that pours from her hands and between her legs spreads in a gleaming pool beneath them, pouring off the statue-hand we all stand on when it reaches the edges, but doesn’t seem to wet the man’s cloak. She leans her head against his leg, happy, and he rests a hand atop it.

Interesting choice building this off the Fool’s Journey. I wonder if this was in a book somewhere or they’re improvising? Why not the normal Virgin's Journey? Must be improvising, the Emperor and the Star for Master and me is just too perfect. I’m gonna laugh if they actually did a ritual spread and this is what came up, even with a succubus reading there’s no way they’d get something _this_ on the nose out of the cards.

Sade’s Balls these statues are big. You don’t really realize until you have to walk all the way along one with door guardians staring you down and a whole crowd of spectators waiting around the threshold, but this is like, a hike. Romantic that you can carry me this far so easily now.

He’s raising his free hand. Weird, no sceptre. Well, here we go...

Flyers land and walkers round the curve of the wrist, revealing themselves to have been paralleling Lyra and I on the opposite side of the arm, and a growing crowd speckles the statues surrounding the gate looking down on us from a perpendicular world like we did to the captain not so long ago, while others line the edges of the hand leaving open a path to the gate and the man and woman. They’re all monsters, of course, and even the human half of the crowd is radically diverse - if nectar can change me this much, what else must it be capable of? I’m looking at the answer.

Other similar crowds wait at the termini of the other three statues, but I see with unexpected relief that we’re not actually holding everyone up - a trickle of people straggle away from the crowds, disappearing into dark places between the statues around the gate, presumably finding smaller entrances.

The king - it’s impossible not to think of him that way - raises a hand in a combined gesture of greeting and halting. He looks about to speak, but another flash of lightning and crash of thunder punctuates our arrival and we wait for long moments, regarding each other, as the sound dies away.

Oh my fuck the timing. That’s _got_ to be on purpose. Can they control the lightning in here?

It’s the woman who speaks first, voice milky and soft.

“We are the water.”

And then the king, rumbling and jagged:

“We are the stone.”

And then together:

“We are the home of monsters. We are the haven beyond all holy designs. We welcome you, son of atoms. We welcome you, daughter of even.”

The pause before the king continues is just long enough to make me wonder if I’m supposed to say something.

“You departed from the path laid to you at the moment of your birth. Name your sins.”

“Just say curiosity, he’s not asking you to—”

I almost, almost, misunderstand and _confess_ \- or at least get angry about someone asking me to - but something in Lyra’s tone makes me glance around at the crowd, at the monsters of both species standing all around us, and get it, just in time.

Even the humans here wouldn’t pass on earth - just to our left, is a girl with cat ears that flick here and there and flattened before at the thunderclap resting in the arms of a charcoal-grey-skinned succubus, clearly human but clearly not quite _all_ human. On the other side, are a trio, two lithe masculine succubi with small devil horns and long tails, each under an arm of a solidly-built human who looks normal until he smiles at my glance, revealing vampire fangs.

Even I would stick out just about anywhere on earth, now.

But no one’s _wrong_. These people are exactly what they’re supposed to be, not deformed or broken or...mistaken.

And so am I. And so is Lyra. What’s our sin, then? That, I can answer, and I’ve been to enough fancy church services I can make it sound like it’s clearly supposed to in this situation.

“I consorted with a demon without care for the consequences. I will never be fruitful or multiply. I prefer eternity here to my god’s heaven. I have claimed another’s soul as my own.”

Wait, what? Did you figure it out?

The last words are out of my mouth before I really know what I’m saying and I feel horrible when Lyra starts at them (Have I gone too far? Misunderstood something?) but when I glance down she’s just looking up up at me with a sort of curiously impressed expression, so I go on:

“I used sex to enchant a sword. I struck my new love for pleasure. I shared her with another out of pride.”

And then I almost can’t continue, because I finally get the joke.

Claimed her soul as my own.

“We acknowledge your claim. We celebrate your sins.”

She came looking for me, called out to a monster from another reality. Woke it up - my mind flashes to the moment by the car, to standing there while she drew a magic circle around me - and brought it to her world so that she could could sell it her soul in exchange for a life of carnal pleasure.

I’ve been trying to make a Faust reference all night, it’s seemed kind of obligatory really, but I haven’t been able to come up with a good one, because in this story _I’m not Faust_.

The rumbling-rocks voice interrupts my reverie:

"Cherish her, son of atoms, she is yours. Welcome home."

Then the woman, speaking to Lyra:  


“Fear him, child of even, you are his. Welcome home.”

...and then they continue in unison again:

“Do all in love. You who make your own path, we embrace your difference. Knock and enter, this door opens to all who dare.”

The woman stands and draws apart from the king, and they each sink a hand into one panel of the gate as if it’s water, their hands becoming part of the bas-relief carved into the panels to grip the image of a handle etched there, and there’s the reverberating iron thunk of some titanic lock pulling free - the gates of hell are locked from the inside, I can’t help thinking it, and the gates swing open, and—

What?! What the fuck, what happened, where...wait, what? Oh fuck, that’s not possible, there’s no way something could...why would...no. Okay. I can still feel my tail, and my wings are still all awkwardly pushed up. God damn but this is a hell of a mindfuck from just illusion. Well played, you guys.

Up ahead, that’s us, and the Throat, and...holy fuck, are they pulling off a whole entire reflection and making it go _around_ the illusion that’s on us? That’s kind of badass.

Kind of too bad, though. I would’ve been curious to see what I look like as a human. Maybe Viktor can pull it out of Master’s head for me.

A torrent of black water thunders out of the gate, too fast to dodge or even brace against, but when it hits us instead of a deluge it feels like smoke and suddenly we’re in a dark space, black as the abyss of space, bottomless beneath my feet but feeling, dreamlike, no different than the stone of the statue.

Details resolve and my heart drops a million miles because for just a moment I think I’ve woken from what _must_ be a dream into a twilight space halfway between reality and vision:

In my arms, in Lyra’s place, is a human girl with Lyra’s features and body, but her inhuman flesh has been replaced by pale-but-pink skin and bleached-white, blue-tinged hair, and she’s dressed in something that’s clearly a wedding dress but somehow archaic or overly traditional and I notice on my arms that cradle her the black sleeves of something like a tuxedo but again older, more formal, as if pulled from the same historical fiction as the dress. A look of horror passes over her ice-blue eyes as she looks down at herself and then is replaced by relief and understanding and the knowing smirk of which she’s so fond returns, comforting me.

This isn’t real. She looks human in my arms, but I can still smell her nectar, feel her tail clutching my arm, membranes of her wings brushing my bare arm where it cradles her. She’s too startled to feed and I’m too startled to be edible, but it’s still demon skin against my own and I can still feel the strange supernatural warmth of her presence, that sense of touching something other in a way no creature of Earth’s universe can be. I’m standing with expensive formal shoes on black space, but I can still feel the cold stone under my bare soles, still taste the Sea-spray in the air.

And I get it: this isn’t supposed to trick us. This isn’t supposed to be a riddle or a challenge.

_We celebrate your sins._

This is a party.

A light to the left draws my eye and when I look, Lyra cranes her head to follow my gaze, digging a reassuringly real horn into my arm.

“I can’t see, what is it?”

“There’s an altar. I think we’re at our wedding.”

I twist a bit more, allowing Lyra to see.

Wow, generic much? Could you even do any kind of ritual with something like that? I guess if all the flowers meant something maybe, but the plain white table’s not going to be very helpful, unless...maybe it’s some kinda purity thing? _Oh_. Dur. The lost planet package. Master says wedding and I’m thinking Venus wedding because I don’t wanna think about Earth.

I’m standing on empty black space, but one step behind me is a path of white flower petals strewn on the void, leading up to the altar to the left, and vanishing into blackness and distance on the right.

The path from which I’ve departed. I already took the first step on the raft, on the ferry. A leap of faith into a bottomless void, but I’ve already taken it.

Ahead, if I’d looked that way first, I would have had no moment of horror, because ahead is a mirror in the shape and size of the gates, showing the statues, and the pool, and the Falls, and, tiny at the bottom point, Lyra and I, our true selves, a nectar-changed human cradling a glittering demon.

“This is such a mindfuck. Look, pores and everything.”

Hold up a hand to show you how detailed the illusion is.

Does Lyra not have pores? It would account for the alien feeling to her skin.

“I like you better as a demon, but you make a cute human.”

She’s still beautiful, but rendered in human flesh and framed by a biologically possible color of hair, her fae features are ten thousand times more freakish.

“Me too. But thanks.”

“I would’ve thought they’d give you a sluttier dress. Hell, I would’ve expected them to find a way to give me a slutty tuxedo.”

“I think that’s the point. C’mon, don’t you wanna get me nakedEEP!”

Yeah, that’s totally your thumb trying to get up my ass. Point made. It’d totally be inside now if the Sea hadn’t washed away all my nectar, too. Yum and mrf.

But yum. C’mon, maybe I can just shift oop I can’t shift and be carried so bouncily.

My eyes are starting to adjust to the ‘gloom’ as I walk, making it clear that we’re not actually in a featureless void - there’s definitely one beneath my feet, but above and around us is a vaulted, gray stone room the size and rough shape of a cathedral, all-but dark and unadorned, the mirror-gate set into one side-wall. Light follows the laws of allegory rather than physics: the reflection is far brighter than where we are, and our illusory forms seem to catch the dangerous thunderstorm-grey glow, but it doesn’t illuminate the space that we’re ‘in’.

The sheer level of commitment to lack of subtlety in the metaphors is impressive. What would actually happen, if I turned back and tried to follow the flower-petal path? Nothing so interesting as falling off the statue - we’d just circle round and round the arm, forever, if I’m understanding how the ‘natural’ gravity on these statues works.

If I were looking somewhere other than down at Lyra’s human disguise, or ahead at the crowd seen in the reflection as they watch our naked and nearly-naked forms approach the gate, I might see the pinpricks of fire and wisps of smoke starting to dot my tux.

“Touch your reflection.”

We’ve arrived at the mirror, and I’m not sure what happens next, and don’t want to look like an idiot blundering into a mirror that’s not actually illusory.

Aww. I was _so_ sure the last word of that sentence was going to be ‘self’.

So, what do we have here? “Rocks. The gates didn’t actually open before.”

_Knock._

“Is it sharp or smooth? Good for fucking up against?”

You don’t knock on the gates of Hell with a jaunty tap.

“Smooth. Most of this place is good for fucking against.”

Ooof!

Excellent. I set Lyra down, and as soon as she’s on her feet I push her face-down against the mirror with a hand between her invisible wings and another on her ass, holding her in place, and growl in her ear:

“Tell them to let us in.”

The spectators wouldn’t have stayed to watch if they weren’t up for some kind of show. Well, I can oblige.

Hell yes, growl at me.

“Master says...ooohf...”

Kicking my legs apart, that’s going to mean OHGOD— “AAH!”

...or that.

The first spank is a warmup - I’ve read enough to know that you’re technically supposed to start light and ramp up with things like spanking, and I’m suspecting that just a few blows isn’t going to count as knocking - but I’m not quite going to start that yet.

I put the fingers of the hand that just smacked her ass to her lips...

“Nectar.”

Hehe, this I can be surprising with.

...and am surprised at the thickness of the layer that clings and the stretching thread that connects it to her lips for a moment when I withdraw from the slick warmth of her mouth. On breaking, it falls to her shoulder, burning a hissing, smoking hole in the dress that erodes slowly larger as it goes, revealing a streak of purpley-grey demon flesh where it lands.

“Did that dismissal...”

But she just grins sluttily in response. Now’s not a time for talking, anyway.

“Tell them.”

The illusory fabric pushes in at first, when I reach between her legs, and then splits satisfyingly open in a long rent, effortlessly shredding lining and petticoats, to let my hand pass.

“Mas...uunh!”

Neep! Finger against my ass I should have...ooh that’s right, you’re slippery enough, just push and it won’t be able to...keep you...out...ooooooh fuck I can barely move that’s intense...omigod so owned, I can see everyone watching in the reflection...

“Hm?”

There’s a moment of resistance, of her body trying to keep me out, and then it’s like her whole body relaxes at the inevitability along with her ass when I find the right angle to push inside, melting in my hands and voice going silent even as she keeps trying vainly to form words.

“...m...Master says...tooooooo ooohh...”

My thumb is probably a lot to start with, but Lyra’s magic and it’s slid inside without incident once past the point of resistability, and using my thumb means my fingers - the dimensions are, surprise, perfect - are free to snake their way up, parting her lips, teasing the opening of her pussy. A stretch that pulls a quiet ‘nnn’ from her lips just lets me graze her clit. I’m slick with nectar, so I don’t know if she’s already wet, but it’s clear from her voice that she will be soon if she’s not.

“...omigod Master says...to...let us...iiiin...”

“Good girl.”

I shift my grip, working the rest of my thumb inside her and getting a proper angle on her clit to reward her for a moment...and make the next bit more interesting. Unlike her pussy, her ass is perfectly smooth inside and somehow even more yielding - and delicate, or at least sensitive, to look at her expression and how she gives in to my other hand still holding her down.

Holding her in place, really doing it and broaching no resistance, feels _good_.

Oh god gasp please keep going, please...make me...cum...

They did say to _knock_. I just want Lyra...in the proper mood...before I do. There’s no sense of time when any part of me is lost in the wet heaven between her legs, but presently her breath comes from parted lips and she starts to voice her lust, little moans that grow as I work her lips and tease at her clit like I really am playing her like an instrument. It feels like every moment of this puts her voice just a bit more under my control...

“Oooh oh Master...”

There. That’s the sound of real need.

Looking down at myself, I see stuffily archaic formalwear, but what I’m actually wearing is a sword with some other handy things built in.

No! Boo! Fucking make me cum, I have to cum, don’t you wanna make me cum in front of all...oop oh grabbing me by the tail this is going to be good oooh slippery that’s kinda kinky...

The dress tears more, the fabric sizzling inside at the nectar on my hand, as I run my fingers up between her cheeks to find the base of her tail and curl my nectar-slick fingers around it and run them up - shredding and burning the dress and revealing Lyra’s familiar demon-tail where the nectar touches it, freakishly half-transparent at the edges - before I sieze the base tightly and yank her down with a gasp into an ass-out spank- or fuck-me position and then immediately deliver a sharp, quelling blow with the hand that’s now free from between her wings.

“Now be a good girl and stay like that.”

Unh.

“Yes Master...”

I reach for Cleavage’s strap, hoping I understood the construction well enough before to undo it by feel and my reflection without too much unshowmanlike fumbling.

Mostly, but then that’s lost in wonder because when I manage to get the buckles undone and pull the set of cuffs away from the much thinner backup strap that now supports the sword, my hand comes away wreathed in fire that burns also at the edges of the gash left in the front of my tux by the passing bondage gear and the light illuminates something on the surface of the mirror - or at least, creates shadows, shadows with no casting object but in the shape of rings like door pulls set at waist-height for a giant.

Perfect.

What’s...holy fuck Master hit me or touch me or _something_...what’s glowing?

Okay, that’s pretty badass.

Cuff on my left hand, nice and tight, mm. Cuff on my right. Yes, two fingers space is right, so careful checking like that, Master loves...

Ankles? Are there tiedowns down there? No, just for aesthetics, wouldn’t want to be half-dressed, I suppose.

It hits me, as I check the restraints’ tightness, just how much and with what interest I’ve read for someone who didn’t consider BDSM to be a big thing in their life until just now.

Clipped artistically to the cuffs in their strap form was a set of four bits of hardware like little elongated, double-looped carabiners. They have ingenious clasps wherein a worm gear on the closed side pivots open both openings at once with a half-turn of a handle at one tip. The utility is immediately obvious: put that tip on the end near the cuff, and even if Lyra could contort her hand around to reach it, it’d take her long enough to work it that I could notice and stop her, and with four quick metallic snaps she’s helpless, bound to the gates.

Well. Is she helpless?

OUCH NIPPLE! “Aaah! Nnn...mrr.” Fuck OW yes see I can’t get away eeep neep oooooh okay, breast caressing is good, yum, thank you Master...

She drinks hungrily of my fondling, so I spoil her with it for a moment by way of a reward for so effectively demonstrating her helplessness, savoring the weight and softness of the breast I’ve just been tormenting, but then it’s time.

The dress is in tatters, split down the back from tail to feet and in front...I don’t have a good look at it with the angle, but smoke curls up around her shoulder and the cloth hangs limp, demolished by the passage of my hand. Even for the context it’s a surreal scene, looking down to see pink human skin peeking out of the gashes where nectar hasn’t yet ‘changed’ her, seeing my own body clothed in the smouldering remains of my tuxedo, and then ahead to see the reflection of my newly-sculpted, towel-clad self putting Lyra’s naked, demonic form in bondage.

It’s not there and I can’t feel it, but the dress acts like a physical object when I ‘touch’ it, so lets have some fun. I place an open palm on either side of her butt, and then clutch inward, gathering folds of unreal fabric into my fists while my nails rake across Lyra’s real flesh, pulling a gasping, pain-and-pleasure moan from her and then I lift the fabric away from her and _tear_ throwing my arms open and it parts, disintegrating with an ear-splitting rip into burning shreds that arc away, consumed before they hit the ground, leaving a sea of pink human-skin in front of me, streaked with purple-grey where nectar has touched her.

“Alright, let’s find out how many spanks it takes to open the gates of Hell.”

The crowd’s been respectfully quiet to this point, sort of carefully there-but-distant, but I catch a few smirks in response to this in their reflection, picking out who speaks English.

Oh god yes Master’s hands on me, grab my ass yes see all yours take it and enjoy it, yes hold me by the waist with the other hand come on dig your fingers in you know you want to.

“Yes Mas...oooh...” Sade’s Balls it’s hard to talk and be fingered and need to come this much. Nnf, ask mouth, ask to cum, please come on boo no OH “OMIGOD” fingers inside feels good but my clit is burning so bad, please...no come back, argh...fuck, so wet, oh my god I’m starting to do the drippy thing in front of everyone, so humiliating. I bet it’s totally running down Master’s arm, I can feel it on my thighs...

How _about_ a little audience participation? My hand drips with nectar when I withdraw it, and I hold it high for a moment, turning to face the crowd I can’t see but know is there.

“But first, anyone want a taste? She tastes awesome when she’s desperate.”

A tremor goes through the illusory chapel as I speak the words, dropping dust and fragments of ceiling around us.

“No, fuck! Master!”

“Is that a safeword?”

“No Master...”

Holy fuck, though, _so_ humiliating. Mrf. 

I can’t believe I like this.

Belatedly, I realize I’ve sent a pretty clear signal by letting my eyes settle on the reflection of the cat-girl I noticed before when I really had meant to address the whole crowd, but this doesn’t seem to offend anyone. She catches my eye in return and then looks at the tawny succubus holding her and they have a murmured exchange that ends with her making pleading eyes at him that are almost as good as Lyra’s and then being sent off towards us with a sharp look from her owner.

The false reality bubbles and tears around her like melting celluloid to allow her in as she comes near, leaving a smoking rent in the image of the chapel that shows where we really are in her wake.

“I’m allowed to lick it off your fingers, or off her cunt, but that’s it.”

Real cat ears covered in real black fur that matches her hair, a real, lashing, cat’s tail. Soft features, clear, milky-white skin, medium-built-but-perfect body clad in what would be a black leather bikini but that wide straps united by silver metal rings make it one piece.

“How about both?”

Another tremor, and the menacing light of our real location shows through a crack in the ceiling, god-raying in through curling smoke or dust that wasn’t visible in the gloom.

Huh? Wait, oh fuck—

She grins and takes my nectary hand by the wrist with both of hers when I bring it near, licking it clean (but never taking any part into her mouth) by dozens of quick, feline laps with a broad pink tongue, eyes shut in pleasure.

Definitely human, cat parts or no: there’s no burn of feeding, and though she has a smell it’s just a subtle, human musk of fresh sweat and horny girl.

“Want me to cross your path, once you’re on your way in again?”

She must read the shadow of confusion that passes over my face, because she goes on, black tail curled around herself so that she can smooth out the end of it with her hands:

“Y’know, for luck.”

_Oh_. Isn’t that not...well. If that sort of thing were working properly, I’d be a lot less interested in opening these doors.  


“Yeah. Thanks.”

...aw...sweet...

Done with my hand, the new girl kneels behind Lyra, who has been peering back at us, but now lowers her head, eyes shut. Is she going to be okay? I want for obvious reasons to watch the cat-girl have her lick but instead I take one of Lyra’s horns - invisible but solid - gently lifting her head so she has to look at me, and her eyes open, expression a tangle of pride and embarrasment.

Tenderly: “Hey.”

“Master...”

Yes, pet my cheek, just see me, I need to know you see...

She’s okay, or at least, not being horribly traumatized, just a little humiliated.

“I’m proud of you. That’s why I show you off.”

“I—OOooh...” Oh fuck, that’s a soft tongue on me, oh fuck nothing like getting licked by a girl when you need to cum fuuuck please nrf of course only one lick.

Whatever Lyra was going to reply is lost in an open-mouthed moan that dies away with a whimper when the new girl finishes and scampers back to her place in the crowd.

Cupping Lyra’s cheek: “Good girl.”

Smile.

Please touch me...or kiss me, kissing is good too, mm kiss me deep yes I know I’m so passive and compliant after you tie me up and hit me and share me, how about that...

The nectar in her mouth is different, thicker and more like that of her cunt than usual, and I can feel it stretch out between our lips for a split second as we separate so I can take my place by her ass, giving another swat and getting a satisfying yelp as I get in position.

Lyra follows me with her strange blue eyes, lips smeared purple by our kiss, watching over her shoulder with a curious awkwardness I finally place as the unfamiliarity of not looking around her wing, so I meet her gaze as I lay my hand on her ass, preparing.

“Get ready.”

Shift shift. Spread a little wider, ‘s not like there’s a way I’m going to keep all this nectar in me anyhow even if I was closed all up, and I’m—

Oof!

Wait, was that an actual warmup blow? You do remember reading that! Woo!

Unh!

Spanked on the other cheek, that’s—

Ah! That was harder, and we’re speeding up, oh please—

“Oh!” Fuck, I felt that in my clit, fuck I need to cum...

The blows reverberate through the chapel, echoing, and then more as I hit harder, dropping dust and then rocks from the ceiling, beginning to open new cracks.

The repeating smack of my hand against Lyra’s ass is surprisingly sensual, full of her softness backed up by the solidness of her hipbones inside, telling me where I’m landing each strike, her flesh warm or cool depending on whether that place has been struck often, allowing me to distribute the blows evenly.

Oh god so good so fast like a wave I can ride and it so is hitting my clit, just...nnf...oh...just a little...oh god...just a little...oh...oh...

She seems to be building to something, there’s something in her way as she surrenders a little more under each blow that’s like an edge I’m driving her toward and I try to find the sweet spot of this progression as best I can as I build each blow just a tiny bit harder than the last.

...just...ooooh...

I’m delivering real solid whacks that sting my hand now, but Lyra’s surrendered, supple-ly meeting each blow and rolling with it, moaning a bit on some but otherwise lost in the rush of it, and then on one particularly dead-on blow that brings my fingertips perilously close to her tender pussy—

“OhmiGOD!” Gasp gasp “OH!” fuuuuuuuuck yes so much for asking permission oh FUCK feel that how does Master do _that_?

Everything happens at once. Lyra comes, somehow, and I seize the towel and throw it aside because I suddenly realize how much I need to fuck her. 

Purple fire - one last illusion - the color of the wave of glow that’s passed over her stars as she’s come erupts from around us, pulverizing what’s left of the chapel image and incinerating the last shreds of my tux, making her wings and rest of her tail and horns and pale purple skin seem to blast into existence behind the edge of a wave of flame, leaving us standing in the middle of a shattered building strewn with illusory rubble, the Falls and the Statues and the Hall showing through ‘outside’.

And the lock, the real lock, unlocks. The sound effects for the false opening were good before, a bass thud I felt in my chest, but this is an earthquake, a grinding shuddering vision-blurring clank that sets everyone unsteady on their feet and makes my ears ring followed by the reflection shifting dizzily as the gates move, silently pivoting free just an inch before they stop, whatever lies within still rendered invisible by their thickness but that doesn’t matter because I’m busy forcing her cunt open with three fingers, covering them with nectar that I immediately stroke onto my shaft: there’s never going to be a more perfect first time for this, and I’m not going to miss it.

Oh thank Sade something inside me while I come unh no boo come b—

Oh. Oh that’s your tip against my ass, and it’s _slippery_ , even if I wanted to stop you it’d...just...nnnn...oh fuck, go slow, please go slow, eep that’s a stretch I don’t know if I can take...oh fuck FUCK oooh...fuck so big, is this Master or the dom statue inside me?

There’s a moment, again, where her ass resists as I press against it, but my slippery tip finds its way into the center, pushing her open, and she relents, letting me in. Even then, it seems for a moment like the ridge of my head is just not going to fit and then suddenly it’s past the tightness and I’m inside, sliding balls-deep all at once as she falls down the length of my shaft to collide with my mound. The sensation is electrifying, unexpectedly soft and intense, making itself known over the wet tightness around my cock, and looking down I see that the nectar is still working on me, still making changes: my pubes have vanished at some point between the ship and now as if washed away in the Sea, leaving the skin bare, soft, and burningly sensitive. Gasping raggedly as I pull us together, a sense of a shifting world makes me look up to see that the gates have moved, however fractionally, from her weight on the restraints as I tug at her.

Those hands on my hips, so careful, so powerful, grip me, please hold me together because oh fuck. Pulling me, pulling me tighter onto you oh god it’s so much cock to take, now lifting me up so I dangle, it’s like flying wait fuck the restraints are moving I hope Master sees—

I’ve forgotten, entering, that I’m strong enough now to just lift her onto me instead of lowering myself to align, so I take her by the hips and stand, holding onto her, fingers crooked into the folds between hip and thigh, her softness pouring over my hands like cream or...succubus nectar.

Standing brings her almost horizontal, clinging to the restraints to take the strain off her wrists, and I pull us back, gently, careful, just a tiny tug, and the gates move soundlessly, swinging with an only just-visible inexorable slowness. They must weigh as much as a city, each, but they’re balanced flawlessly on frictionless hinges (that lubrication tech is post-singularity here is no surprise) and so move like they’re floating in space, gliding soundlessly once set in motion, but slow, slow. Long minutes will pass before I even need to think about unclipping Lyra’s arms.

Inside Lyra is...delicate, far more so than her cunt, which is soft and tender but seems made to take the kind of pounding I can dish out now, and perfectly smooth and yielding. With my cock in her ass she looks back at me fearfully (though with no less love) and moves carefully, as if anything but perfect compliance might tear her apart and at this thought something connects in my mind, the magic of a Dismissal but given no form and so wild, dangerous, powerful. I spoke no words, but I was full of the rush of sharing her with the captain, full of the power-trip of being able to smack a wall and have her bound and helpless, full of the feeling of what it means to really own someone and so the energy - tremendous in the athermodynamic way only emotional energy is - of that last summon-binding still became a Dismissal and is here, now.

I _could_ tear her apart, with a thought. I could rip through her like she was smoke, no more solid than the illusion I just destroyed, but I can do other things, too. The magic lays her whole being open for me, a meta-sense both more and less intimate than empathy: I can feel what she feels - lust, fear, the beautiful wracking waves of orgasm, the sense of being soft and delicate in my hands, barely solid, but trusting that I love her too much to destroy her.

And her love for me, a bottomless abyss like a hole in her heart I can fill.

She gets it. She feels it too.

I do Master, I do feel it too. Please, please, please make it so we never lose each other.

You can hear me?

I heard _that_. Were you thinking other stuff? Oh fuck, this is...please, I’ll...eeep...

It’s okay. I love you.

I’d let her see the one thought, the wild magic latching onto my wish to have her know I feel the same way, but this too can be controlled.

More and less intimate. More, because I can know everything she thinks, everything she feels, but less, because the sensations and passions are someone else’s, unable to overwhelm me or become my reality in the way one’s own feelings can.

She’s coming, tapering off now, but her clit burns for the touch it hasn’t had, so I direct her tail over it - shaping her will with the magic so that it happens —

What? What’s happen...oh fuck, okay, yes Master, oooh thank you fuck I needed that...ooooh oh no fuck now my tail wants to cum, can I...oh. Okay. Oh fuck yes, please do, that’ll...yeah...oooh...

— and then press the image of what I’m going to do gently, wordlessly into her imagination, and she takes it, melting into happy assent, coiling herself lustfully around the image of being forced so.

You’re gonna make me...you’re gonna make me and I’m supposed to fight so we know you’re making me...oh fuck yes okay...

Unh pulling back out your head’s so wide oof push in again yes see my ass can make nectar too a little inside so you’ll stay slippery which is good because you’re not going to let me just yield, are you, that’s you making it so I have to be forced on every stroke isn’t it, yes with the right pressure it’ll just let go no matter what I tell it to do see I’ve got a slut’s body and yes fuck it kind of feels good giving in, let me give in I want to surrender...thank you, ooh...

“See Master, it’s yours, I’m yours, all yours...please...”

Oh god fuck you can see that fuck I don’t wear a lot of clothes but I’ve never felt this naked—

There’s a question, held in the back of her mind, but haunting, present even over the ending throes of orgasm. She tries to hide it, covering the nakedness with mental hands, but this is as futile as covering her body: it spills over them like her breasts would, forces her to choose butt or mound to leave uncovered.

I gently pull her ‘hands’ away, curious, and she’s in the thought, tinged with arousal at my image of her attempt to hide it from me.

No, I...nn...what’s your name? No, it’s okay, I, you don’t have to...fuck...please Master, what’s your name? I want to know it, names are power and I wanna say yours, I wanna carve it on me so I’ll really be yours, that’s what I was going to do with the sword ritual, please tell me your name so we can seal this...

What? No, that’s not, no, you said and I’m good I listen to what you say, just because I’m thinking something...

Held inside the thought is another, more secret, half-covered as if by a single hand trying to hide her face. I pull this too, away, gentle but unstoppable.

No please, I want this to be your idea...but...

Lyra’s not my name. It’s not! I’m sorry! You said it was my name so I’m trying to think of it that way but it’s not, lyra’s just the word for instrument not a name it’s just what I am and no I don’t want it to be a name I don’t wanna _have_ a name I just wanna be your lyra.

Please...oh...you’re not...oooh no you’re not mad, of course not, this is what you wanted, the seed-ghost wouldn’t make a mistake that big...ooh...

And she’s right. I keep calling her by the name as if it will stick by use, but it doesn’t fit, something about it has felt off since the moment I gave it to her.

The thought brings her knowledge of magic along: names are power, giving someone a name is power if they accept it, represents power if they _have_ to accept it, you can give someone power - as she wanted to do - make yourself theirs, if they will accept you, by calling yourself after their name.

My lyra. Instrument.

She’s afraid, pitifully so, of displeasing me, so I tug her hips into mine again and gasp out loud - still only the second time in my life I’ve made a noise during sex - with the pleasure, letting what I feel at her body around me, at the softness of her ass nestled up to my mound, and the knowledge of her thoughts, rest softly against her consciousness as we start to fuck properly.

I make you happy.

So happy.

...snif...good...

But I’m busy pounding her ass and using the Dismissal to do it optimally. It hurts her, but the pain is thrilling: she has no heart to pound, but the feeling of my cock overfilling her erases all thought, thuds a rush through a body that’s hungry for pounding rhythm and has none of its...own...

Oh, that’s, oh FUUUCK oh god cumming I really can’t not...yes fighting it like you want but your cum is so hot inside me and I feel you cumming and and my tail is still...can’t stop...it’s...ooooooh...

There’s a last, shattering explosion, from me this time, jangling with the sound of the breaking mirror, annihilating the last shreds of illusion, leaving us standing once again on a statue’s hand in front of the dully-shiny black gates as they swing slowly open.

I’m learning, oddly, how to come, with her, from her, how to open myself to the pleasure, to ride the explosion instead of fearing or fighting it, but as my mind clears enough to feel her ass clench around me and her body arch, writhing against the restraints and then seeing through the magic her own soul drowned by the waves of orgasm I realize this means I’ve opened her to the explosion as well with the inevitable, obvious result...

...ooh my fuck is this even me cumming or can I just feel...you...fuuuuck...ooh...hoo. Whew.

Woo, that was intense.

Master in my head again, let him in, wrap around him, feels so good. I’m getting a grip on my restraints? Oh, I see, pulling the gates. Yes Master. There.

When I look down in response to the hot drops of nectar that fall on my feet, forced from her pussy as she’s come, a memory floats fuzzily to the surface of her post-orgasmic mind, standing here with someone tall (superhumanly so, nine feet or more) and feminine whose identity isn’t important at the moment, being shown an inlay on the surface of the hand we stand on, a V of silver lines showing where the gates will swing as they open. 

They’re beneath us, still only a few inches apart, seeming all but parallel: the gates have a huge arc and will move simply outward a great distance before they part.

I could fuck her again, want to fuck her again, but we must move to let the gates open and so I withdraw, shudderingly, clenching myself as I pull out so my head will be even bigger, spread her even more as it passes—

Oooh oh fuck eep OOH don’t go...

I miss you inside me, Master.

I know. Soon we’re going have sex for like a month straight.

Smile.

Huh, gates are moving a lot, wonder what Master’s going to do about that...

This.

The last pull, performed with her arms as if they were my own - not like working a puppet, rather, I simply slip the intent into her mind like I’d slip a finger into her cunt - has set the gates opening fractionally more precipitously, and there’s just time to set her to the ground and wrap a supporting arm around her middle while I unclip her (leaving the cuffs in place) with the other, pulling her to me so my grip pins her wings and nestles my still-slick, still-hard cock into her ass as I work. 

The restraints are redundant while this Dismissal lasts, but I can feel the magic fading already, its titanic power nonetheless burned through by how I’ve been using it, so I bring her wrists together in front of her and make her keep them there while I clip them to each other, and then we backpedal slowly, just ahead of the opening gates.

Ooh...

It makes me feel like water when you shape me, like I’m nectar running through your fingers...so liquid...I...I like it...it feels like being a seed again, so close to you, so yours...so pleasing...

Turn around, face Master. Kneel. Okay, down.

“What’s your name?”

Ooooh Master inside my head like inside my cunt, oh my god unf c’mon fuck me...

“I’m just your lyra, Master.”

So tall, standing over me. So big.

“What are you?”

“Yours, Master.”

What is my name? I found out who I am, who I really am, the night this little femme here was born.

Taking the name someone gives you makes you theirs, gives them a power over you. It’s accepting what they say you are. It can be used in magic because it’s true in your heart: the heart makes magic work the way the head makes engineering work.

I step around behind her, drop partly to one knee to reach down to her. The magic is wild, formless, fading, but there should be enough power left for what I want to do, and it answers my question - it’s more than simple power, it’s a guide, else I could never manage the fantastic complexity of affecting her mind as I’ve been doing - of how to make it happen, if it’s possible, in something more basic than an image.

The crowd’s been out of sight, moved from the path of the gates, but I’ve felt their eyes on my back, and facing the other way now, I can see them, fanned out around the arm so that it seems to bristle with monsters, watching.

“What are you?”

I take the name she gave me, accept it, let it settle inside myself as the name my own thoughts will call me, let it define and change me: the pet-name given by a succubus in the moment of her creation.

...and then in the formless, dark moment of potential and freefall between one self and the next, turn everything upside down.

“Yours!”

Ooh. That was...huh?

“Say my name.”

Master I don’t...unh...AAAH!

And I take the name, my name, and carve it on her soul with one hand gripping her upper arm to help keep her in place and the other thumb tracing out the initials on her ass, leaving behind an indelible line on her left cheek - part of her now as surely as her stars, it will even glow like her stars, the magic tells me - tapered like a calligraphic brush strokes. My thumb hisses against her flesh, and she yelps with the pain, writhing in my grip, trying obediently but futilely to form the words as the name makes itself a part of the foundation of her being, sears itself into her like a brand.

“Say my name.”

“Bl...oohmy...Blue...Eyeees ooh!”

No. Way. That felt...UNH!

B E. Finished, I encircle the letters with a heart drawn as if behind them, lines interrupted where the letters overlap it, and lay an open-palmed smack that feels as it connects and she yelps again like setting a hook over the mark, and then release her arm, standing over her.

When I’m finished, there’s just enough magic left to cross the wires of cause and effect inside her for a moment and drive this home.

I can’t believe...oh god, you have nectar on...fuck...

No. I promised myself I was going to take this all the way. I made a decision what was going to be important in my life if I ever got here, and I...

And you can see me deciding this. Oh god, so naked...

Even without the magic, I wouldn’t lunge to steady her when she falls to hands and knees as I step back in front of her: the purpose and surrender in her eyes would stay me. She continues all the way to my feet, giving up a last submissive look before dropping her eyes and licking my toes slowly clean of the nectar she dripped on them while coming, cooing hungrily when she realizes I can see her reaction to the taste anyway.

So naked. No point pretending anything else anymore, but why did I ever want to?

Naked feels so free.

Nuzzle Master’s feet now, I wonder if he can read his name on my ass from here? Better...raise it higher to make sure...

When she’s done, I reach down to raise her by a horn back to kneeling and force her to look at me while I press the need to come _one more time_ against her.

Looking up at Master feels so...eep...gotta drop my eyes...

“Look at me.”

Eep okay. Expectant...oh. Say his name.

“Blue...ooh...Eyes mmm...”

You did not...oh my fuck, you so made it so...how does that even...well, it’s happening may as well enjoy it...

“What are you?”

Oh my fuck this is weird, it’s like...

“I’m yours Blue-Eyes! I’m your...ooh...”

...solid, inside, like a thought I can fuck, but saying it feels...

“...instrument...”

...velvety and smooth on my clit, just right...to rub against...oh fuck deeper Master, harder!

“Blue-eyes, I’m Blue-eyes’ toy, I’m Blue-eyes’ pet I’m Blue-eyes slave, I belong to Blue-eyes ooh I’m his I’m Blue-eyes’...”

Deeper, harder, touch me more, get inside me, take the thing you can never give back, oh god yes—

“...Blue Eyes’...oh FUUUCK UNH!”

The force of the orgasm knocks her limp, but my grip on her horn keeps her looking at me while she comes, face a mixture of surprise and lust, eyes narrowed with the pleasure but fought open to keep my gaze, mouth softly wide, tongue raised inside it looking soft and slick as if in invitation...

Mmmmmmff...yes Master, yum, holy fuck now I can’t stop cumming it’s like it’s holding me...open...oh god and it’s covered in my nectar from before...

No gag reflex, no need for oxygen, hot breath against my newly-bare mound, but not for long. I pull her all the way onto me in one smooth motion and hold her there, shuddering as my still-sensitive tip pushes that soft tongue down and out of the way, and her mouth closes around me like before, pulsing with the orgasm, her eyes still fixed to mine, and then my shaft down her throat closes off her gasping breath with a last, truncated coo but I’ve taken her on an inhalation and her body can’t stop trying for the gasp so she writhes against me, sucking powerfully and rhythmically. She seems to fight for control of her breath for just a moment before giving herself to it and using the gasps to drink all the deeper. Some need to be inside her stops it now, but the electric feeling of her lips against my newly-bare mound makes me resolve to have her lick it everywhere at the next opportunity.

Oh god wanna hold on, all I can reach tied up is your ankle but that’s something at least and I can rub my nipples against your nice strong thighs...oooh so...sensitive when...cumming...

Had I not just come, the way she looks at me alone would be enough, but I have and so it takes forcing myself into her, holding her head in place against me. I’m still surprised at how quickly the throbbing climax takes me, how soon I can feel her swallow hungrily, her own orgasm subsiding as mine builds and then shocks a rough cry of lust out of me as the effort needed to make it happen so soon after the previous one makes it poundingly, vision-blurringly intense.

“Good femme.”

Good Master. Oh my god.

At length, I too subside and withdraw, laying her cheek between my legs where she kisses my still-hard shaft dreamily and sweetly, then licks with the tip of a soft, gentle tongue, affectionate but too stoned by the orgasm and naming to do more. I let her enjoy it for a moment, stroking her silky metallic hair, and then, guiding her with my hands the whole way, sweep her again into my arms - she’s bound, and too loopy to cling anyway, hanging limp in my arms, wings dangling. Her tail trails on the ground, so I shift my grip and flip it up over us with a spare finger and it comes to rest looped around one breast, tip nestled between our bodies, caressing gently or weakly.

The Dismissal is gone, consumed as I forced all the last of its power into making her confession of ownership orgasmic, but she’s still here with me, brought close by submission and my arms around her, smiling a wild, fangy, excited, loopy smile up at me when I mouth ‘I love you’ down to her.

I love...coo...guess I came too hard to do anything but coo...oh my Master.

It’s strange, the things I think, in these moments that are so big, so momentous. These moments that are in some way too massive to handle and so my brain just gives up, glitches out and thinks something ridiculous. For instance: It is, indeed, possible to be more metal than Arcattack. All you have to do is put your demon bride in bondage, take her in your arms, and carry her across the threshold of hell.

Except of course, she isn’t my wife or anything like it.

A wind stirs around us, air pressure equalizing like the inhalation of a god, and the gates part.

Within is darkness, and in the darkness, lights brighter than the sun.

# END OF PART II


	16. Just Who The Hell

Fucked, fed, cum, carried. This makes life so simple. I wonder if Master knows the way now?

Well, you’ll figure it out. Nuzzle.

Master, oh my Master. You make me feel so good.

Boo, you can’t hear me or see me anymore. I miss that, being naked felt good.

She’s limp and loopy in my arms, and I feel close to that myself, unsteady on my feet and heart still pounding from that second orgasm.

Third? Seventh? How many times has it been tonight?

I’ve _lost count_. What is happening to me?

Time, after good sex, is...subjective. I don’t know if the gates part wide enough to allow us through after only moments, or long minutes. It feels like no time at all with her pleasant weight in my arms, her warm skin silky against me, her happy eyes looking up at me or blinking languidly closed, peaceful.

What do I call her now? Even my computers have always had names.

It’s dark, far darker, behind the gates, and for a moment as I stride forward all I can see is a riot of multicolored glow far in the distance beyond them, and my pet’s stars catching this new light...

Pet? She is a little animal, a little wild, a lot loyal.

The time being. She’s mine, she’ll take whatever name I give her, and wear it with pride. To read her entire mind would have been the work of a lifetime even with magical help, but I saw that much when we were connected.

...and then we’re inside, and I see what should have been obvious, especially to me.

I bet there’s a way to have something like it. I bet there’s a way to be naked like that, always.

That would be so intense. Mmmmm...

The dull black, flat panels, with strange bas-relief figures, are stained glass, the good, expensive kind that uses thickness instead of paint to achieve shading. Even the gates are made of it and as we pass they glow purple and golden and so many other colors, backlit, the image a tangle of figures too complicated to take in so close up but dominated on the one gate by the same ancient-young kingly figure who spoke to us outside (except he’s now dressed in a long, ragged black cloak, and holds a lantern high) and on the other gate the water-bearing woman (now clad in a decadent-looking garment that only counts as clothing because of the context and reclining on a couch, surrounded by naked servants of every gender and variation of monstrosity).

Ahead of us is more - the building is open inside, and really is made of the windows, lurid, beautiful scenes woven together by strings of statuary the way that the individual shards of stained glass are woven together by thin strips of something I suspect will turn out to be far more interesting than lead.

A cheer goes up from behind us, as we cross the threshold, but it seems millions of miles away in comparison to the scenes I’m looking at.

They are...everything possible. Everything you’d expect from this place, the only scenes that _could_ be wound together by the kind of statuary from which Sade Hall is carved, an iconic but strangely vivid style like someone forced Heironymous Bosch, M.C. Escher, and the staff of Studio Trigger to make a Hentai together...

Except, except, except. The way the light refracts, the anime-brilliance of the colors, the shards of rainbow that echo through the space, the sudden flashes of brilliance where a flat surface catches the glow...these scenes aren’t rendered in glass, nor something synthetic, nor the strange impossible material of the ship’s windows.

Another lightning strike goes off outside as I gawk, burning afterimages of the bodies and acts of lust captured in the windows into my retinas, seen in flashes when I try to blink them away.

The Stained Hall. It’s not the glass that’s stained, it’s the inside, everything and everyone cast in lurid shades by the brilliant white lights outside, filtering through the windows.

Pretty cool, huh Master?

And then the crowd breaks around us like a wave, people and monsters striding on, passing us some with a nod or a wave. The cat-girl, as promised, loops around us, coming near to cross our path at an angle, but everyone else gives us a bit of berth and I might be insulted or embarrassed had I not seen to aftermath aboard the ferry: they’re just trying to give us the same peace those people needed.

We’re in a massive space filled with equally massive structures, but there’s a straight shot of open space from the gates to what must be the other end of the mountain range we’re inside. Dead ahead, that can only be Sade, the central figure of a round window, a dark grey-skinned figure, bat-winged and devil-horned, scorpion’s tail rising from behind one shoulder, split seamlessly down the middle so that one side is masculine and the other feminine. In one of its four hands it holds aloft a rod, while the others caress the heads of the figures - one masculine, one feminine, one both - elaborately bound on the stone slab before it. In the background, between naked or rope-clad limbs, shines the purple-and-green atmosphere of the Eye.

Lovers are meeting, members of the crowd running or striding or crawling up to embrace or snatch up or push to knees or kneel before people waiting within on the walkway. A girl or woman - age is impossible here - stands in our path, watching someone just behind and to the side of us approach, expression a mix of worry and pride. I bend our course a bit to the side to get out from between the couple and she follows us with her eyes for just a moment. More casual interest? Curious about the newcomers?

Oooh whee, she totally looks like...nah. I must be super stoned from that orgasm and all this subspaaaace. Seeing what I wanna...see. ‘sok, Master’s with it, he’ll...take care. Coo.

“Hey, did you like it? Did I guess right? You’re from Earth, so...”

Huh, familiar voice. Weird...must be someone...played near a lot.

We’ve drawn level with the waiting woman, and I turn to see her supporting a small, delicate-looking figure dressed in elaborate black-lace loligoth frills. The voice is tremulous, weak with some great exertion (easy enough to guess what, here) just passed, and even from the dozen or so feet that separate us I can see her breathing hard. She was, to my surprise, speaking to us, gaze directed our way.

The waiting lover speaks to her, voice much stronger and louder, and my pet stirs in my arms, surprised or startled by the sound.

“Don’t interrupt people’s aftercare, dear.”

It’s English again, spoken - insanely - with a miles-thick midwestern accent that would anywhere else confer innocence but here only serves to further sexualize the firey-eyed, unnatural-cherry-red-haired face it comes from.

NO WAY...omigod...omigod omigod Master, I think that’s...

“You were about to anyway.”

The smaller girl sways on her feet and is gathered into her lover’s arms, clinging like a child, her black dress contrasting the other woman’s short, white, uncomfortably-sexy-innocent-girl-next-door dress.

“Yah, but I’m not all polite like you.”

Omigod, omigod, Master, omigod!

Oooh...blink...so subspacey I can’t even talk...but...omigod...

My pet’s jumped again in my arms at the voice, craning her head around to see, and then looking back to me urgently, shaking off her blissed-out state like someone trying to wake from a deep sleep, searching for words.

“What is it?”

“Omigod, omigod, Cherry, Rory, omigod you guys are amazing! I can’t believe...wait, how come...”

It’s the smaller girl who replies:

“How’d you like my wedding outfits? Frumpy enough? Would you believe that stuff was actually in fashion when I was born?”

Motion in my arms draws my attention: pet has clapped her hands over her mouth in shock, but I can see the smile peeking out around them.

“What?”

Blink blink blink mrf c’mon self...

“No. Way. That was you. Doing our...omigod omigod omigod I can’t believe we got a welcome from _Sacrilicious_! How? Not that...complaining...but...”

Oh poor Rory, you look like you’re gonna crumble. You didn’t have to work so hard! A little explosion would have been fine...

The small girl opens her mouth to reply, but the red woman interrupts her, excited:

“Heck yah we did your welcome! You didn’t really think somebody was gonna be able to put out a call for doorwardens because they’d picked a couple of virgin Earthlings off the Lost Hunter’s Rest and they’re speaking English and the human looks convinced he’s gonna get smote the first time he invokes the gods and oh by the way seems to be discovering a bit of an exhibitionist streak and have me _not_ show up looking to pick their brains, do you? And then Rory, well, nobody’d volunteered to play doorwarden yet because I might’ve kinda jumped on it a teensy little bit, and you know how she likes to show off.”

“So wait, all of the special effects back there, that was...

In response, tiny goth girl extracts a hand from where it’s nestled between her cheek and the red woman’s nontrivial cleavage, and with a flourish it’s clad in smouldering, tattered over-formal wedding dress rather than black lace.

“Rory here is the best illusionist in Pandemonium.”

“Pandemonium’s a big place. It’s not like I’m...”

“Yeah, maybe there’s someone half as good down in the megayear circle. Erm, right. Sorry, Master. This is Rory and she’s Cherry and they’re the drummer and singer of my favorite band and OMIGOD.”

The red woman seems to take this a cue.

“Cherry Pop, that is. Pleased to meetcha. I’d shake, but we both have better things to do with our hands.”

This last is accompanied by a quiet squeak and momentary face-hiding from Rory, who moves as if the hand of her lover that’s out of sight behind her has just squeezed something interesting.

Aw, they’re so cute together offstage. It really sucks they can’t play like that onstage like she does with the twins.

Hey, where _are_ the twins?

It’s a testament to the power of context that I register the pun, interpret it, smirk inwardly, and yet take the name as in stride as if it had been ‘Jenny’ or ‘Molly’.

“So did you like it? I hope I was right going so deep with the Christian imagery. You obviously got my Narnia reference, and then I kinda got improvising and it seemed like you were going with it, so...”

There’s something strange in her way - she has a childlike build and affect that would be at home in the more questionable type of hentai, but in her eyes...I can see that she was able to make the door guardians look ancient by simply _actually being_ centuries old herself.

“It was...it was good. I think I needed that.”

“Good. I hope it was cool instead of weird my giving her a first communion gown, I thought the crossed meanings would...”

Rory sways in the embrace as she talks, and Cherry strokes her straight black hair, soothing.

“Relax, baby, you’re barely standing.”

“Poor dear. She gets carried away when she overworks. We just came off a show, but like I said I didn’t wanna miss the chance to pick a new Earthling’s brain. Anyway, we’ll let you be, I’m sure you folks wanna go find your room and not come out again for a couple decades, but it is first Scorpio and I’d love to have some new shit to play at the last show of the tour. Once you’ve had a chance to aftercare and all, why dont’cha scry me up and we’ll see what you’ve got in that pretty-lookin’ head? Just put both your energy on the ‘gram so I know it’s you. And take your time, I wouldn’t wanna think I interrupted somebody’s first decan in the Hall, just be a dear and try n’ get to it before third decan, will ya?”

“Alrighty, Sade Bless! Have fun, you two.”

And with this she turns to let Rory climb onto her piggy-back and steps lightly off the edge it comes to me we’re standing near, and I’m restrained from exclaiming or trying to stop her only by the steady trickle of thudding, grazing, or sparking, or silent impacts as other people land dynamic entries around us from various definitions of down.

Omigod yes please, please can we Master...wait, that’s supposed to be out loud, stupid fangirl subspace long day blink blink AHEM Can...

Nnf. C’mon, voice...

“What.”

Don’t fail me now, please-eyes.

“Omigod can we pleease? Please Master? I wanna meet them for real!”

“Sure. How long is a decan?”

Curiosity has brought me this far, why stop now?

YAY THA—

Yawwwn, foof, blink blink. There, feeling a little clearer. I’d be pissed about getting dragged out of subspace YET AGAIN if the reason hadn’t been _Sacrilicious_ showing up.

“Y’know, ten days. So we’re gonna do it? Really? It’ll be so fun, I promise.”

“We’ll do it.”

Grin grin grin so excited I can’t even talk.

“So what are they like? What do they play?”

Trying to work it out from the people, and the context, and the name ‘Sacrilicious’ isn’t getting me very far.

“It’s like...so there’s kind of a thing. The less you know going to your first show, the better the joke is. Do you want the spoilers?”

“No, save it.”

I’m really going to have to see this for myself.

“So this is your home.”

The details of the hall finally start to resolve, as my eyes adjust and my sense of space reluctantly admits that what I’m looking at is even possible.

Inside, the stone-orgy liquid-explosion motif continues. We’re in a single huge, open space, but through it there soars a tangle of statuary once again on every scale, and the statues support or are platforms, catwalks, balconies on every axis so that I’m not sure if looking ahead at the Sade window we’re standing at the bottom of a deep abyss, or looking vertiginously down it from a perch at the top, or just staring along the length of a fantastically long building.

Beneath my feet is another statue, the back of a feminine form with hands bound crossed behind its back by thick iron cuffs, one palm butted up against the threshold so that the wrist makes a ramp bending down and to the right.

“Well, I have a room. I thought that’s where you wanted to go?”

“Yeah. Especially if you have a bed we can sleep in. Which way?”

It’s strange, actually: I’m not physically tired - nectar seems to take care of that - but everything seems to teem, overwhelming, as if dreams are seeping through the seams of my mind, trying to burst through.

How long have we been up?

“Straight down the arm.”

“What I meant is, is this like, your hometown? Do we have far to go?”

“Not too bad. Bit of a walk just to get out of the Stained Hall here, of course, but then not far? There’s a ley-line that goes right off this statue’s head that’ll take us down where I live. And, I guess. I played here more than anywhere else while you were gone. I like the views.”

The statue’s back below is bare of both clothing and other features, but elsewhere - at least where it’s near enough to see - people and monsters play together, demons bound as I did with my pet on the ship, humans tied to conveniently arranged statues, some couples or groups working out scenes that need no equipment but hands and lust.

“This place is a dungeon.”

“Yeah. Epic, right?”

“There are no words.”

“That’s gotta be Sade, but what’re the windows around...them?”

I’ve been thinking of Sade as male, my preferences draw me to the female side of the window, and thereby I accidentally use the correct pronoun.

"So you know Tarot cards on Earth?"

"Yeah. Like, for fortune-telling."

"This is where they come from. That's Sade as the Celebrant, and then it's the rest of the Virgin's Journey all around us in the huge windows except you saw how they put the Overlord on the gates with patri and mama gender-poles which is why it ended up as the Emperor and Empress on Earth instead of just being one card except I learned in class that you can't do divination-sensitive ink on the Material Plane, so it kind makes sense to split it up and I guess it was too hard to get out of Earth's bipolar gender thing and it'd take like a whole tendeck just to do enough gender-poles if you had to have a card for every single one. Makes me surprised they work at all, really, but..."

What?

I grin. "You are such a nerd. Go on."

I love you too, Master.

"So then in between in the smaller windows, those are the omake-strings which are like the side stories that happen along the Virgin's Journey. It's confusing here because the archetype is really old and it's supposed to be a story with four branches one for each element off the main one that starts with the Virgin's Leap--which we took falling in here and you couldn't see the window because it's statues instead you're supposed to go through it like--"

Pant.

"--we did before you see the other images. Umum, it's confusing if you don't know the Virgin's Journey because the story's all shuffled after that like out of order so that everyone who plays here sees their own story and gets their own reading out of it, like, what you see while you play and what images stick out to you make the divination and the whole thing is supposed to be one giant huge divination that goes forever where everyone who plays here is the reader. Noone knows what the reading is yet but sometimes people read things and then go put it in the big book of diviniations from here in the Library and some day supposedly it'll be readable but in the meantime you get awesome inspirations to play and stuff from what you see when the lightning burns the images on your eyes."

"Cool, right? It's like, one of my favorite places."

Pant, pant. Yeah, I'm a nerd. I love this stuff!

It's informative, and, more importantly, _adorable_. I recognize the breathless, joyful urgency on her face as she talks so well, and it makes me smile. I want to ask what all the images mean, I'm burningly curious about them, but I also can't process anything more. We'll be back here anyway, no doubt, as soon as we've collected our wits...

"Like I said, there are no words."

There really aren't. I look around and take in the space, overwhelmed. There are dozens of images, all brilliant, and they tickle something inside me, each one twigging an inner sense that this Means Something.

"Sade Hall has a Library?"

The capital 'L' was practically audible.

OOH! Nod nod nod yes Master!

"We are _so_ going."

"Do you wanna go there next instead Master?"

Fuck so conflicted I wanna go home but I wanna take you to the Library!

"After we get settled and rest. I'm exhausted."

"Yes Master."

Phew. See, this is why I'm a slave, that was so much easier than deciding for myself.

"I wanna get in bed with you, yeah."

Even I know you respond to this with a kiss instead of words, and it’s fun to revel in the strength that lets me just lift her to my lips like I’m drinking from some wide vessel.

There’s still something different in the feel of her nectar, but it’s less than before, closer to the bright and clear taste she’s had in her mouth most of the night.

Aww. Love you too, Master.

I so totally have that Hollow-Heart-in-love stupid grin on my face, don’t I. Well, yay. Finally.

We walk in silence for a space, basking in the kiss’ aftermath, following the path and taking in the space.

Our statue’s neck is bound by heavy iron chains to two great black stone stars made of slabs that trace out an outline with pentagon in the middle like the star of a pentagram, edges inlayed with crowds of smaller statues. On the far sides, great statues are bound, spread eagled as if they’ve been summoned there (though as pentagrams these would be missing the enclosing circle). The back sides of the stars are dotted with smaller versions of the stars themselves - revealing these to be the Sade equivalent of the X-shaped Saint Andrew’s crosses I’ve seen in the more interesting things to cross my tumblr feed - and various other such equipment, almost all in use.000

Our progress out along the arm has brought us close to one of these surfaces, so that it’s layed out beside us like an animate diorama only a few dozen yards away.

No way, it’s them!

Look up there, Master, they’re...

Ahem. Ma— No. Out loud, really. M...nnnf. Wait, what...fuck, neep! What’s going on?

Pet lets out an urgent squeak, as if startled, and when I look down she’s brought hands to her mouth, feeling her lower lip with a fearful expression.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I—whoah.” Blinkblink. “That was weird. I like, couldn’t talk for a minute.

“Are you okay?”

“I think so? Probably just something lingering from that _fucking amazing scene_ back there. Which, by the way, oh my god Master.”

“Thanks. You were really great too.”

Grin grin.

Coo and stretch, nestle down. Being carried is so comfy...

Wait, right. Mast—nnf. What the hell? Okay, chill, self, it’s just a little lingering subspace or something, hanging on because you’re Hench and tried to drag yourself out without Master’s say so. Just concentrate, it’ll chase away. Just have to....nnnnf.

Oh fuck. Fuck, that’s not lingering anything. Fuck! Master! Wait, I made a sound before, just not words... “neep...”

“What is it?” She’s back to looking scared. “Can you stand?”

Nod nod. Setting down, okay, I wanna be carried but you need a look at me I suppose. What the fuck’s going on? 

“I can’t talk!”

Wait, what?

She looks appropriately confused when the words come out of her mouth, and then something passes over her face that makes me think she’s guessed the rule at the same time as me.

“Except you just did.”

Yeah, I thi—nf. What? Oh.

Ooooh. Huh.

Nod nod.

“Talk to me. What do you think is happening?”

Yup. Just grab onto it when Master hands it to me, but he’s only handing it when I actually need words.

I mean, eep, still, but whew, and, oh baby.

“Sneaky Master! You made it so I can only talk when you talk to me. Right? You weren’t just writing your name on me at the end there, were you? I can’t believe it took me until now to notice.”

That idea makes me feel...weird...I like talking to her, communication is...

“Did I hurt you? Are you upset?”

Nf. Right. Heh. Shake shake.

Communication is fine, is the thing. We’ve met one of her idols and had an entire conversation without knowing anything was up.

I should tell her this was unintentional, but, scarily, _I’m not sure it was_. Something thrills in me, puts my heart in my throat just a little bit, to see her look up at me, helpless to even speak without my allowing it.

No, it’s worse: this was unintentional, but it’s _what I wanted_. I vowed not to be careful what I wished for, not even an hour ago, and, well...

“I think your leash is going to get pretty short if I keep going like I want. You know that, right?”

In response, she grins lopsidedly and looks up at me out of downcast, provoking eyes.

“I didn’t figure things were gonna be the same after I licked my own nectar off your toes and liked it. I know what I am. Master. This is me.”

...and she’s not kidding. She’s standing there, hands bound, naked but for jewelry and bondage gear, in the middle of this crowd, and she just looks bright-eyed and steady, comfortable, safe and happy. All the fear has drained from her face and been replaced by a shadow of excitement or curiosity or something, like she knows I’ll do something interesting with this, like she just assumes that...

An unsteady feeling, like dizziness, but nothing to do with my inner ear or ‘natural’ gravity getting funny ideas or even lingering magic. Some emotion I’ve never known before and can’t name.

“You really believe in me.”

Nod nod nod. Grin.

...like something basic about reality shifting under my feet...

“I love you.”

She believes in me, and looking at her standing there, wings spread just a bit to frame her curves, tail peacefully swishing, stars glittering multicolored in the light from the windows, I can see the person she believes in reflected in her luminous purple eyes and fanged smile, and I know: I’ll die trying to be that person, if I have to.

I l..nf. Oh, interesting. Well, this I can show without words, I think. Smile, softly, look at you with lustful eyes, see Master, I love you too. So much.

See, all yours. I’d put my hands behind my back but I’m tied, but I can kind of...be open...

We need to get out of the middle of the path, but there’s no way to keep my hands off her when she looks at me like that, so I bring her to me for a kiss by an ass cheek cupped in one of my hands. Her hands are bound, but she manages to bring them up together nestled into her cleavage so that they explore my chest between the soft warm weights of her breasts.

You make me so hungry...make my lips all soft, just let you explore, let you...mmm...have your way, that gets to you so...coo...aw. More soon, right?

I trail a hand down her body as we separate, making her sigh and close her eyes and take a ragged, barely-audibly-cooing breath as it traces her the swell of her breast, the edge of her mound, punctuated with a bitten lip and soft little squeak when I stop just short of really touching her hot outer lips.

“Now, feeling properly lustful?”

Oh god, yes. Mrf...

Nod nod nod. Lick my lips, leave ‘em open a little so maybe you’ll kiss ‘em again or fuck them...

“Good. While we walk you can think about how I’m going to fuck you up against your front door when we get to your place.”

“Mmmmf...”

I unclip her hands from each other so that I can take one and let us walk hand in hand, but something in her way stays me from setting out immediately.

No, I can stay...oh, I see. We need a leash so much. Well, not far from home now.

Nice smooth fuckable rocks...the smallest little things. I’ve missed being able to walk around barefoot without getting all cut up.

“You know this isn’t because I don’t like talking to you, right?” 

Nod nod. You like making me cum, and that’s only with permission too, I get it.

“You like how I express myself without words, I can taste it.”

“Yeah. And do let me know if you need to say something, squeeze my hand or whatever. Especially if you think something’s changing with the magic or anything like that.”

Nod nod.

So. Fun scene to watch. Point point.

She’s indicating something on the...what? Dungeon-surface? To call anything in here a floor or ceiling is ridiculous.

Following her gaze, I finally pick out a feminine figure bound - with leather, not magic...well. Magic leather: the cuffs glow with intricate symbols too far away to make out - to the outstretched hands of a pair of statues that seem arranged for exactly this purpose, arms held outwards and above her head by the bondage, but otherwise naked and free. She’s made of soft curves like my pet, and looks human from here, but so does the figure pleasuring and tormenting her, a romance-novel-cover-chiseled male, black-clad, working a hand between her legs while the other fills her mouth with a thumb.

It’s clearly intense: she sways in the restrains and I can see her breasts heave with the rush from here.

Squeeze.

“Hm?”

“Can we stay and watch, Master? I’ve seen them before, this is fun. Look at her feet.”

“Sure.”

Feet? Oh. She’s standing in a broad bowl, low, but large enough to hold a bathub-ish worth of water.

“They’ve got a way of getting that dismissal we did on command. Right?”

“Not quite. Just watch.”

We won’t be the only audience: a few other people relax on benches nearby, dividing their attention between this and other scenes happening near it.

He’s changed technique as we’ve been talking and his victim has been coming closer to orgasm, switching from what looks at the distance like simple fingering to swatting her cunt rhythmically and rapidly with an open palm, not hard enough to make her jump but clearly otherwise to great effect.

“Does that actually feel good? Have you ever tried it?”

“Couple times. It has its ups and downs. ‘sfucking intense, anyway.”

“It looks like she’s gonna come from it.”

The fatigue of the night’s adventures is starting to set in as we near what I’m assuming will turn out to be something like a home for now, my eyes beginning to ask for the sleep they’ve been denied: focusing at the distance makes the naked, swaying girl seem to do more than writhe, bucking in the restraints and seeming to blur for a moment as if liquid. She gasps, and I fancy I can hear her voice even through the murmur of the crowd and the distant roar of the falls filtering in through the still-open gates.

Shrug? “Everything works for _somebody_. Keep watching, you’ll miss...”

“Holy fuck!”

Suddenly and violently I _do_ hear her cry out as she arches, straining in the restraints and then there’s a splash as she bursts like a pricked water-balloon, filling the bowl with a clear, glittering liquid that sloshes dangerously as my pet erupts in a short giggle and takes hold of my arm, leaning on me.

They are so cute.

“What...”

The man drops to one knee by the still-sloshing bowl and quickly places a hand in it, doing something I can’t see because of the angle, and then after a moment brings a handful of the liquid to his lips, seeming to drink, but instead of dripping through his fingers it stretches out with an elasticity incoherent to its behavior in the bowl and before my eyes the stretched-out string becomes a glisteningly transparent, curvy feminine arm terminating in a hand he now sucks the fingers of, caressing for long moments as the liquid slowly calms and then reaches out a second arm, trembling and weakly pulling the rest of the girl’s form - now clear and glittering instead of apparently-flesh - out of the bowl and into his arms.

“She’s a shapeshifter. Wait, you changed your tail. Can you do _that_?”

Pet’s looking on, grinning with amusement.

“If cumming hard made me splash, you’d be back on that raft right now trying to figure out how to filter me out of the Sea, sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, I just don’t wanna end up with exactly that problem.”

He cradles her now, gentle and careful: she’s still transparent, and though she has her form again she’s clearly too drunk from the orgasm to become fully solid - his limbs sink unnaturally far into her where she rests against them, and her whole form trembles when she giggles in response to something whispered in her ear.

“Thank you. That was epic.”

“Of course, Master. Wouldn’t want you to miss anything inspirational.”

“Is shapeshifting common?”

Slowly, patchily, the girl’s liquid body turns opaque and becomes flesh-looking again - though glistening wet, and the man wraps her in a towel I hadn’t noticed before. Deciding the scene to be over and feeling like watching the aftercare is oddly prying, I gesture us onward.

Shrug? “Meh? It’s pretty common for Lilim, most of ‘em can at least like change their cup size or whatever. Sade don’t seem to get it as much for whatever reason, though lots of people get small stuff like me changing my tail and teeth and eyes. Full-on liquid like that’s kinda rare, though. I wonder what she tastes like when she’s like that?”

“That’s an amazing question.”

Nod nod.

Here it is. Point with my tail, this way, Master.

“What can you change about your eyes?”

“I can make ‘em different colors, but I suck at getting ‘em the _same_ color. It took me a whole day to get this purple and make it match.”

We’ve arrived at the statue’s head, and looking at it I realize the figure’s captured in a moment of being tossed or struck, head thrown back and hair flying so that the stone locks of it create a tangle of darkly-shadowed arches and galleries like some Lovecraftian stone forest. It could be a trick of the weird-colored light and the disorienting lightning flashes, but it seems like the passages continue into blackness within the statue’s head.

Now, which ones exist today? Not the middle one, of course not. Behind the little split above the buckle of her collar? Nope. When did that get popular?

Pet’s tugging at my hand as she peers here and there, looking into various dark nooks.

“What are we looking for?”

“Remember that thing I said way back about shortcuts through forgotten places? This is a good one, nobody can remember all the dark little corners of this femme’s hair _and_ it happens to be on a ley-line, so we can skip a long walk home if I can find one that’s forgotten enough.”

Of course ley-lines are a thing here. Next I’m going to be learning astrology does something useful. 

“What does that look like?”

“Um. It’s like you can kinda see through the shadow to all the places it could take you, if you squint just right, except weird because it’s not like a scry, you don’t necessarily see what’s going on there. You probably can’t see it, even if you’re a bit switch. You have to be pretty sub to make the connection. One of my moms was Abased, so...”

How about here? No? Ugh, don’t tell me the crowd used up the whole head! Fucking major transits.

Wait, no, Master looking. Squeeze.

A long list of new questions slots itself into my memory, waiting.

“Found one?”

“I can’t, you’re too sure there’s nothing in the shadows. I think we need you to close your eyes.”

Something something quantum mechanics getting uppity. I close my eyes.

Well, it’s a little better, I can at least feel them now. What the fuck, rocks? He’s not looking anymore. Huff.

“What’s wrong?”

Oh. Wait, seriously? Do you not get it? You must really...oh. The nightlight thing.

“When you were a little kid, like barely even born, not just unripe, you were scared of the dark, right? ‘cuz you’re born so small and the material plane’s so dangerous, right? Could be anything in the dark, except not really because people live in houses and stuff and it’s the material plane, so eventually you got over it. Yeah?”

“Yeah, why?”

“How’d you get over it?”

If I know you, it’s not just screwing up courage every night like that Valkyr boi mom tried to set me up with.

“It’s like you said, there’s not actually anything _in_ the dark unless you’re in like the woods with bears or something in which case it’s perfectly rational to be afraid of...the...dark...”

Oh.

“But you just told me stuff can totally jump out of dark shadows at us here. Yes?”

“If they’re forgotten and unnoticed, yeah. That’s the point of this. The rules are different here, Master, but humans have really heavy souls. I know it’s scary, but I need you to let that door open a little so I can walk us through it. It’ll be fun once you get the hang of it, I promise.”

“I can’t just decide to believe...”

The sentence dies on my lips, because I’m pretty sure that if my eyes were open I’d be looking at someone who’s decided to believe in _me_.

“What do I do? Is there like, a technique for this? Can you show me somehow?”

Hm. Umum. This one’s good and dark. Ooh, and it goes back a way and around a corner, even better.

“Yeah. I think...follow me? And keep your eyes shut?”

“Okay. I can’t see, though.”

“I know. Careful, she’s got a collar on, step up here, then down. Watch out for the ceiling, it’s getting short...oh. Wow, this really goes on, let’s go a little further. There. Okay, open your eyes.”

When I do, it’s pitch black, and only after long seconds do I make out the twin purple rings of my pet’s eyes, just barely still glowing.

“Where are we?”

“Deeper inside her hair.”

“So now what?”

Hey eyes wink out of existence, closed.

It sure _feels_ right in here. If I can just get you to let the door open a little, I bet we don’t even have to move...

“Look around. Just sit and feel it. The passage goes on, I checked, but I dunno where, I’ve never come this way before. It might go on forever, they do sometimes. We’re already further than should fit inside the statue, and we didn’t turn around to go down her throat. There could be anything down there, Sade Hall is safe but that doesn’t mean there isn’t stuff here that’s...yeah...”

Yeah, that’s right...

Believing it’s possible that the passage goes on far beyond what could fit inside the statue is far easier than it ought to be.

Long seconds pass and I hear my pet shifting in the darkness, then suddenly her eyes spring back into existence, bright after the absence of all light, and before I can react to them she’s flung herself at me, tackling with arms legs and wings all and we’re _falling_ and then something twists and there’s light again but it’s a rushing, strobing blur, one scene to another like we’re falling through the pages ofWHAM.

“Oww. What just happened?”

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry Master, I’m so bad at landing these. I should have warned you.”

We’ve landed in a tangle, her on top this time, but I can still set us both back on our feet, holding her to me with one hand while I push myself up on the other.

“It’s okay. Are _you_ okay?”

Nod nod.

“Did it work?”

“Look around.”

Oh. For one thing, there’s light, the soft dim yellowy light of candles but it comes from jagged, translucent yellow stones cupped in the hands of the statues that make up the walls here. The air is warmer than above (it feels, in some visceral way, like we’ve gone ‘down’, even though I know that there will be no more meaning to the concept here than there has been), and a sound of running water fills the space that, while high-ceilinged to make room for the feminine statue that raises hands to catch and spill the small waterfall that drops from above, still feels cozy and intimate compared to the geologically-scaled place we just left. Gazing further upward, I realize this room too mocks gravity: the feminine statue’s raised hands join with those of a masculine statue that mirrors the pose, stand in its own pool above our heads. The flow is fed by waterfalls that drop horizontally from among the statues around the perimeter of curved walls that bend down around to the floor, making the room unevenly spherical, the ‘floor’ actually a tangle of pathways threaded among the statues, bridged here and there by arcing tentacles or statues that rise from the ‘floor’ holding hands or having threesomes with the feminine participant suspended horizontally like a (sometimes literal) bridge.

Against the ‘walls’, some of the embracing figures seem to move in the unsteady gloaming, and it comes to me that the walls aren’t walls _exactly_ so much as places where the statues become impassably dense, giving the space an amorphous quality that feels more like a forest clearing than a room, and yet weirdly without the attendant sense of menace: it’s just as if the darkness and shadow gives the space the same sense of unclaustrophobic openness one gets from big windows.

«Agh! Are you two okay? Do you need an unhurt partner?»

The speaker is a slight-looking but otherwise boyish, no, assuredly male...human? Person without obvious monstrous features, still holding a startled hand over their heart, half-risen from the bench by the pool at the statue’s feet they were sitting on. 

Startled. By something jumping out of the shadows at him. This darkness feels cozy to me, comfortable, holds no menace, because _we are the things that jump out of the shadows_. Things do, as it were, go bump in the night here, and _mainly it’s things like me_.

Steam rises from the water, and people of various genders relax in it, looking up with annoyance at our dramatic entrance.

My towel is, of course, the only stitch of clothing in sight.

«We’re fine. I’m still getting the hang of these.»

Yeah yeah, you were new once too, no need to look down your nose...oh. Fuck.

Fuck, so embarrassed.

Point point. C’mon, Master, we’re almost there!

She’s clearly eager to be on her way, for which I can’t blame her.

“We weren’t supposed to land in the hot tub, huh?”

“Not so much, no. I was trying for one room over. We’re not far, though.”

Sure enough, the passage she leads us down bends upwards, twisting around and taking gravity with it until we find ourselves in a less-steamy, barely-lit chamber that seems actually to be a nexus of connecting passages, then down another - flattening ourselves against a statue of someone feminine wrapped in what by the feel is a tentacle to let past a trio of nervously giggling, flowery-smelling girls, one presumably human while the others sport angel and fairy wings respectively, all dressed in what might optimistically be called clubwear - and into a smallish but apparently-popular dungeon.

What’s a bunch of Lilim doing down here? Poor things. 

The fairy-winged girl looks hungrily at me for a moment as she passes, then dashes off after her companions, giggling shrilly, when pet grins wickedly and licks her lips and I laugh despite myself.  


“You’re adorable.”

Giggle. “Sorry if I just super cock-blocked you, Master.”

Erm? Apparently that lets me talk? _What_ is the rule? Is it obeying something energy-wise?

I’ve always thought girls were scared of me for some reason. What I never noticed, lacking someone like my lyra at my side, was that I _like_ it.

“I think she would’ve realized pretty fast she was biting off more than she could chew, so to speak.”

There’s a selection of extremely practical-looking dungeon furniture, but the main thing here is open places with heavy iron rings dangling from the...ceiling...

Sade’s balls but I forgot how comforting this place was. The energy’s always so chill down here...hard to believe it’s technically part of the Abyss. I suppose I should be grateful to the Hall, sticking me down here one room away from this little playroom instead of over the Abyss with my friends.

Instead of a ceiling is another floor, inverse to our own, more of the same dungeon. The space is low and I could easily reach the opposite floor - what would happen, if I touched it? - so that people and equipment share space as if in the same room, but not gravity. In open places, there are iron rings, some supporting people in various stages of very elaborate bondage, tended by solicitously wicked-eyed captors, but they occur on both floors so that some dangle down ‘normally’ while others seem to project up from our floor, hanging toward the ceiling on which their dominants stand. There are spectators, and I’m tempted to make us join their ranks, but pet’s leading on urgently in the way of one who’s almost to their destination.

Heh. C’mon, just through here!

Near the doorway pet gestures to, someone feminine with downy white feathers instead of hair is bound by hands to one of the rings so that she can’t rise from where she kneels to reverently suck her owner off.

“So how do you get the rings to use the other gravity? It’s on her floor.”

“Oh, it’s just where you tie from, like, what your story is. They must’ve started on this rock.”

That’s...ow...

We’ve come through another archway into a softly purple-lit room not unlike the bottom deck of the ship, a relatively-small and cozily low-ceilinged space hung with curtains, velvet-cushioned beds or seats set into alcoves in the walls (which are more solid here, making walking into the room feel rather like wrapping ourselves in a blanket), soft and comfortable furniture from a universe where the categories ‘modern’ and ‘antique’ have no meaning in the middle of the space. The floor is terraced, allowing another ring of couches around a fridge-sized quartz-looking rock (though you don’t get purple-luminescent quartz on earth) in the center of the room that provides much of the lighting. Much of the furniture is occupied, people comforting each other or sorting and packing toys or just sprawled, resting alone.

Fuck damn, it’s been so long I have to actually look for it. What a trip this has been...no, it should be...it should be...what...

We’ve arrived at an arch in the wall, two statues holding raised arms together like the interlocking boughs of a tree, a bas-relief carving of the Eye of Sade and the True Sea beneath them, and my pet is looking at it, confused, running her free hand absently over the stone.

Behind her, a trim feminine succubus watches us where she’s risen from being draped over the cushioned bench set into the wall opposite the corner we’re in.

«Hey! It’s you! Congratulations! It just went away like a watch ago, I thought you must have got claimed. Is this him?»

Human-red hair in two long thick braids, long pencil-thin devil-tail with a heart-shaped tip like some fragile single-leafed plant suspended weirdly still beside her, luminous red eyes the color of her hair. The kind of delicate, silver-bell voice you’d expect from such a person, but she carries off Infernal’s burning syllables oddly well.

She’s half-wearing a thin, silky robe, and when it doesn’t successfully follow as she stands she shrugs the rest of the way out of it, leaving her bare even of jewelry.

Nf. Guess that answers that. Squeeze.

“Go ahead, you can talk to her.”

«No, we just got back. I...I don’t...»

I don’t get it, we’re back, we made it, how can my room be gone? I just wanna go home, is that too much to ask? I know the whole Hall is home, but this was _home_.

«Oh fuck, sorry, was I supposed to ask you first?»

Pet glances at me as she finishes speaking, then answers, looking confused.

«No, it’s okay. He doesn’t speak Infernal. Yet. It really just changed?»

Wait, huh? I can talk back without...I guess that makes sense...

«Yeah, like, I think not even a watch. I think your stuff got toyboxed, sorry...wait, did you like _just_ abduct him and you’re already claimed?»

“What’s up?”

“My room’s gone. This picture of...oh holy fuck, look, there’s us on the raft down by the floor. This was my door until like a watch ago. She says it just changed.” 

Sure enough, near the floor are carved two figures on their knees on a raft, caught in a moment of passion, pet clutched in my hands, facing out so that she’s displayed, impaled, head bent back to listen to me explain to her when she may come.

“How? Who was watching us?”

There’s further the issue of having to perform such a finely detailed carving in so little time, but I’m learning not to protest about that sort of thing.

“No one, I don’t think, but this was my room so I had a connection to this Rock, and now it remembers us. I bet this is the moment it started changing, for sure that’s when I really started to realize how owned I am. Usually they’re not so literal, but I’m not complaining.”

“Wait, so, all the statues here...”

I look around, at the room - there are carvings, abstract shapes here and there, geological things like the crystals that give light, but most everything that’s not flat to allow foot-traffic (and those, I realize, looking, are inlaid with drawings in metallic colors, or mosaics, or what look like paintings done in the deep way of veins in marble), is statues of one kind or another, pornographic as up above but more personal in scale.

“...they’re made the same way. These are memories. Right? None of this was made, that’s why it doesn’t look engineered, because it’s _not_. It _grew_. The rocks being alive doesn’t just enforce consent. Yes?”

“Yeah. Memories, dreams, stuff people hope for, things like that. Usually you have to stonesing to pull the energy out and give it form, but if you just put out enough energy, well, have a particularly good scene and you might leave behind a new statue or whatever. The more statues, the older or more popular the place, usually. This dungeon’s probably a couple million years old.”

A couple of _million_? Humans have only even been a species for...oh. On Earth. I get a ridiculous mental image of my inner sci-fi nerd sitting in front of the rack of harddrives necessary to contain his list of questions there aren’t time for right now.

“And that’s how rooms can come and go.”

“Yeah, they respond to the energy too, like the Hall feels you and makes a place for you. Or doesn’t, if you’re not the home type, or if...” 

Omigod. Omigod SQUEEEEEEE

She trails off, face exploding into a smile of realization as she looks back to the...it’s not a carving. The memory.

“What? What’s up?”

Omigod. Omigod, it’s over. Glomp! I did it and it’s _done_ and it’s over!

It actually ended and I found you and now I’m yours and now that spiking of a year is actually _over_!

No, down by Master’s feet. Remember how good that felt before, self?

Instead of replying, she turns to me and throws herself around me for a moment, then slinks down my body to kneel sitting on her heels at my feet, posture formally slave-posed with arched back and hands behind her clutching her heels, but she’s looking up at me excitedly and her tail is lashing.

He’s expecting an answer. Yes Master.

“All this time, I’ve been going through the Needle’s Eye and I didn’t even know it! This picture of us where my door used to be, it’s the perfect metaphor, all of that crap can just be forgotten now because there’s just you and me! I mean, here I am naked and there goes the last of my stuff and I can’t believe it’s a _relief_ but it _so is_ because all the fighting, all the stressing out about stupid dust, all the wondering if I’m gonna see tomorrow, it’s all over. Nothing to worry about, nothing to think about, just Master. Of course I don’t have a home of my own, my home is you, Master. What now, Master?”

That strange vertigo-emotion again, shot through with a pang of something that’s like lust but stronger, as she looks up at me, face full of absolute trust and expectation. Those eyes, again, the ones that made me kiss her when I thought it might mean my death.

Thoughts and questions try to pour out of me all at once, instead jamming in the metaphorical doorway, and the red-headed succubus takes advantage of my hesitation:

«Hey, um, do you wanna borrow my wyrdstones? If you’re newly claimed it’s probably just that you live with him now. Has he decided?»

«Thank you! Let me ask him, but I doubt he’s got a place yet. We _just_ came in like five ges ago.»

Pet seems to read the permission in my face when she turns back to see about translating, and this is apparently enough to free her tongue.

“She offered to let us use her wyrdstones if you wanna scry and see if you have a room yet. I don’t think you will, but it could happen. Want me to try for you, Master?”

She looks so hopeful and eager to please, I find myself nodding before I can even consider the question.

Grin grin.

«He says yes. You really think he’ll have a place already?»

«He might, I’ve heard of it sometimes, if you make an entrance or you give it a lot of energy to work with. Friend of mine says he saw a whole manse grow in like two ges once. Even if you have to wait a whole decan for it to grow you’ll at least know where to look, the Hall oughtta have got that far.»

«Fuck damn, two ges? I guess you really shouldn’t say Harder to the Rocks! We did have a bit of a welcome, though, I suppose.»

«So there ya go. Go on, impress your Master. You know how to use ‘em, right?»

Nod nod.

When the red-head turns away and bends over (as my pet did when getting me summoning tools, and it makes me wonder if this was for my benefit or just a habit of feminine succubi) to rummage in the small sling-like bag at the foot of her bed, pet leans near and tugs at my hand.

"Hm?"

“The poor thing’s half-starved and she’s being really nice. If you’re as into her as you taste right now, I think she wouldn’t mind a snack.”

“Wouldn’t that bug you?”

There’s not time for the similarly important ‘wait, you can taste that?’.

“Not that it’s my choice, Master, but no.”

The seed-ghost would have...this makes my head hurt. Whatever protest I was going to try dies on my lips as the new girl turns back, holding out a handful of small, rounded stones of shiny black rock glittering with golden flecks, bearing Infernal-looking characters.

I can’t help but size up her manner, and there does seem to be a certain pleading in it, and it is true that when I look at her, I can’t help feeling like a fire she’s trying to warm at but isn’t sure she’s allowed near.

The stones are proffered to me, not my pet, and when I reach for them the new girl suddenly presses them into my hand with the flat of hers and then looks horrified when I don’t react immediately. If not for my pet’s prompting I might let the moment pass as another of those inexplicable moments of social awkwardness that punctuate my life, but I can feel the hunger in her gesture and wrap my fingers around hers (lithe and delicate in contrast to the soft curvacity of my pet’s hand), holding them for a moment. My eyes stray, unbidden, to her now-outstanding nipples and breasts that are fuller and softer-looking than I first gave them credit for and she smiles warmly, coming nearer as if pulled by gravity so I let them linger there and then it’s over and I’m left with a handful of stones, curiously warm from her touch.

Okay, so...no. Master. What does Master wanna do?

Squeeze.

Master looks expectant, I get to talk. Sure.

“So do you wanna do it?”

Bounce bounce bounce, c’mon, do something.

“Let’s do it. How do they work?”

Motion, behind my pet: the red-headed succubus perches on the edge of her bench, sitting with an oddly fidgety air, watching us with her tail laid across her lips. Is she posing for me or just being a succubus?

“So um, this is going to be interesting, usually when you use divination to navigate you know what your home _is_ , you’ve just kinda forgot how to get back there, but we don’t even know that, so you’re gonna have to ask about the general idea. ‘What’s my home’ is kind of a big question for this, I mean Viktor claims you can do with it cards if you’re demon and mix decks right but if you ask me you’ve got to at least start with a birth chart, _if_ you can even figure out what the right zodiac to use is, and then...what?”

You smell...like the kawaii-peaceful thing in the car before, yummy and sweet, but it’s not making me sleepy this time.

She’s trailed off, seeing something in my expression.

“So what do we need do to?”

“Sorry Master...”

“It’s okay, it’s super cute when you nerd out, I just wanna find out what this place thinks home means to me.”

Aw.

“I know, right? I bet it’s gonna be super epic, you never had a humble abode in any of your fantasies _I_ was part of...okay, okay. So. Hold the stones and think about the question. What’s home to you? How do you get home? Where would your home be? Try to like, feel it. Maybe close your eyes or whatever, some people think that helps.”

“Okay. Now what?”

“Alright, so now you _could_ just cast, but if you want the full effect you’ve gotta make some kind of connection to something that’s not using the material plane’s rules. Reach into the dark a little bit, kind of thing. There’s a lot of ways to do that, but using me is _definitely_ the most fun. Erm. Not to top from the bottom.”

She’s already looking up at me, but somehow it feels right to take her by a horn and _make_ her, so I do, pulling up just a small bit to raise her fractionally off her heels.

“Oh? How do I do that?”

“Oooh...” Nf, hell yeah... “...you just kinda...fuck me with the question...I’m sure you can...come up with something...” Lick my lips.

There’s a strange impulse to hesitate as I doff the towel, flipping it over my shoulder, and when it’s gone the intimacy of the redheaded girl looking on so intently makes me feel far more naked than I did in front of the crowd at the gates...and then my pet is gasping in anticipation and all I can see is her hungry eyes and soft, open liiips...

“Mmmmff...” Oh god, half hard going in and getting hard inside me, mmf...

Is it bigger? I think it’s bigger, I hope it’s not going to get too big for my...nf...

My free hand, the one not holding her to me by a horn, is still full of rocks.

“Now, pet, I’m going to...to cast these, and let you free, and you’re going to read them for me.”

It’s a bit hard to talk steadily with her sucking ravenously, silent for the lack of breath and full mouth yet no less expressive.

Let me free, by which you mean take away this wonderful feast of cock. Oh Master.

I have, I am discovering, a talent for making eye contact at awkward times, and find myself meeting the clearly-enjoying-this gaze of the stones’ owner as I raise the hand that holds them, shaking like rolling the damage of some insane fireball spell, and then, imagining forcing the question into pet’s soul like I did with intentions and thought at the gates and punctuating the thought with a tug on her horn to grind her face against my mound, let them fly—

Ooh, so deep I can feel it in my cunt!

Nnnnf...boo, oof! What’s the hurry? The tip’s always so big even without pulling back the skin, lemme open my mouth for you, I don’t have human teeth but I do have fangs...

Soft, slick lips kissing my tip as it withdraws, and the tiny string of nectar that connects my tip to them for an instant, and finally the hungry last lick of her sweet little tongue would in any other situation make me plunge right back in, but magic is afoot and it’s a bit urgent.

Jeez, so busy getting facefucked I didn’t even hear them land. Where did they...OH FUCK fuck what’s...happening...

“The stones went inside you! Are you okay?”

I’d meant to throw them between the tips of her folded wings, just behind her, but as soon as they left my hand they bent suddenly downward, plunking into her flesh just above the base of her tail as if vanishing into a pool of milk.

“I...fuck, I can feel them, they’re moving...gah...”

She’s clearly noticed, looking up at me with her face screwed up in confusion and worry, and then turns to the red-head, hands about her hips and then just above her mound as if by pressing she can reach inside herself to pull the stones free.

«Fuck, what’d...nf...what’d you do? What are these?»

Yes yes, it’s very funny, now tell me what you just snuck on me and how you’re not spiked.

Red-headed succubus is looking on with a mixture of horror and amusement, eyes wide and half-giggling mouth covered with a hand.

«I’m so sorry, I thought you knew, you said you knew, it was a hard question and you were setting up for it and then I wondered but I didn’t wanna interrupt your scene and...I’m sorry! It’s okay, really, this is how they work when they can’t just spell it out. They’ll come out again when you get your answer. I didn’t mean to...hehe...really, it’s gonna be okay. They’ve done this to me lots.»

«I...unf, what....oooh fuck what are they...doing...to me?»

«Answering the question. Just give them a sec to settle, it’ll stop feeling so weird. Stop fighting! Having them in there feels kinda sexy if you go with it. It’s made me cum, a couple of times, actually.»

Nnnf...easy for you...to...say...

“Is she okay?”

But of course the red-head doesn’t speak English.

I’m on one knee in front of my pet, concerned hand on her shoulder as she writhes. It doesn’t look like pain, exactly, and the owner of the stones is neither surprised (at other than our own surprise), nor worried, nor cackling evilly, but even now I’m a little iffy on these bald-faced violations of physics.

“Can you talk, pet?”

Gasp gasp neep okay it does feel kind of...gasp...cool if I relax a little...almost like, fingers in my cunt or something...

Nod nod.

“What’s going on? What’s happening?”

“They’re...they’re...wooh...inside me, it’s super intense but she saaays...it’s okay, they’re suppose to do...this...ooh.”

Fuck, I let it go, but still need to talk and we’re not holding hands. Um...ooh...okay...

Pet reaches unsteadily for my free hand, and squeezes when I take it, but seems to be calming down.

“What’s up?”

“I’m apparently supposed to stand up.”

Rising, I pull her lightly up with me, almost throwing us off balance by forgetting my new strength. She seems okay, a little unsteady and breathing hard, but not hurt.

I...nf...okay I guess I’m going this way, nf...or not. Which do you want, Master? Tell me to go, hold onto me and don’t follow...make up...wait...

As soon as she’s on her feet she sets off across the room, strange expression on her face, upgraded to out-and-out surprise when, still confused, I neither follow nor drop her hand.

“What’s happening, where are you going?”

“You told me to...wait, no you didn’t, but it feels so much like you, I can _taste_ you, you taste like sunshine when you’re happy and...what the fuck? I thought you wanted me to go this way, but, it’s...”

“What’s happening? I didn’t tell you to go anywhere.”

“No, I know, how...oh. Oh _HAH_. It’s the rocks. You fucked me real good and hard with the question, and then the rocks went inside me and got all literal and now I’m...nnff...I’m trying to follow that order and I can’t not because I...because the rocks...this is so confusing...”

She’s shifting uncomfortably on her feet, tugging at my hand as she talks, so I finally relent and follow, keeping hold but letting her walk us across the room, toward what as we approach turns out to be a set of angled stairs like those on the ferry that will carry us up and around to exit through a door set sideways into the wall so that the floor and not-ceiling of the room make tall walls to either side for someone looking through from the next room.

«Um, fuck, sorry, I can’t...»

«It’s okay, just scry me up when you get settled. My name’s Anha but the stones’re covered with my energy, you’ll find me.»

«Okay. Um, bye...»

«Good luck! Hey, it was good to see you smile, you used to always look so sad coming in and out. Congratulations again! Tell him!»

“So do you know where we’re going?”

“All I know is this answers your question.”

This is so weird, but it doesn’t feel like not-me, like of course I’d do what Master wants...

“Is it far?”

“Dunno. Looks like, though.”

Her paces quickens as we travel, and I realize we’re rushing along near a run only after we’ve blurred through several rooms, following twists and turns of gravity that destroy whatever sense of direction back to her former home was left. I’m not just stronger, apparently: we’ve already come what must be most of a mile, but I don’t even feel winded. Pet is trotting along urgently beside my long loping strides, breathing hard with...

“I thought you don’t need air? You’re panting.”

“Yeah, but breathing hard when you fuck hard is sexy, right? I don’t really have a choice about it, but it doesn’t slow me down. Anyway, there’s gotta be all of like three people in Pandemonium who don’t like to watch heaving bosoms, so that doesn’t exactly encourage me learning to control it.”

Pant. _You_ sure like heaving bosoms.

“It does go well with your anti-gravity breasts thing.”

Nod nod. I know, right?

“So do you recognize any of this? Any idea where we might be headed?”

“Nope, never been this way before. It’s weird, it almost feels like they’re just trying to get us lost, at least we for sure haven’t been going a straight line, and I’m pretty sure we went through the same room twice on opposite gravities back there.”

“Weird, I thought so. Why would they...”

Wait, what...oh. Oh no. Fuck, wait, give me time to explain squeeze squeeze squeeze

“What, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“So...fuck, nf, c’mon, just let me explain...so there’s two ways to gag me if you don’t wanna just use leather, you can mindfuck me so I can’t make words with my mouth, or, you can...can...nf...can mindfuck me so I can’t even _think_ words, but...um...word...”

Fight. Just keep it off long enough Master knows what’s happening...

She trails off, but I can finish the thought.

“...but without being able to think words, you’re just an animal. Yes?”

Nod nod nod.

“Sorta. Mostly.”

Nf, c’mon...no, fuck, let me...thank you, Master...

I remember to give a question for real, this time.

“Is that happening to you now? What’s going on?”

The increasing effort of finding and stringing each word together is evident.

“Y...yes! I...it’s the wyrdstones, it’ll end when...supposed to...won’t hurt me. Just about to only be feelings and instincts for a while. Same self after, but can’t guide anymore, that’s...part of answer. Rest is...get home when you ask for it.”

Whew, he gets it, now I can—

I can tell when she gives in to the binding, something in her looks like someone straining against cuffs relaxing and finding them suddenly comfortable. I expect to see the light go out of her eyes and watch her become stupid, but that’s not what happens - they do change, become more wild, but no less intelligent, just...different, and then she’s thrown herself around me, looking for kisses, grinding her body against mine and cooing, and I’m tempted to give what she wants although she doesn’t seem to have anything specific in mind beyond a general wish to devour...aww...

Oh pet. You love me so. Have a kiss. Have my hands on you. I’d fuck you right here, but we have to find home.

When I pull away from the kiss, she follows for a moment, then shrinks back, crestfallen, when I hold her back by a horn.

“Mrr.”

“It’s okay, I love you. Just, wait. Master needs to think so we can find our home.”

She responds to the warmth in my voice, and my smile, but of course if you can’t _think_ words you can’t understand them, either, and so she responds by trying to jump me again, confused when I still hold her back. I try to mix some severity into my smile and it seems to work, making her relax a bit, intimidated, but not rejected.

No, I suppose, we don’t actually have to find home, this could be home right here if we wanted: we’ve come through various other rooms into a space of dark red stone where a bowl-shaped dungeon-floor (no particular theme of activity here: furniture for binding, beating and fucking are all equally well represented and used, although it tends to be made of something wooden-looking rather than the usual extension of the statuary) rises at a sharp angle to our gravity where we look out and down at it from a railed balcony to make a curved, sloping wall. Behind us is a maze of recovery rooms, small nooks surrounded by statuary and piled with pillows and cushions, many invitingly empty and some invitingly occupied.

We’re completely safe here, if I understand how the consent protection works: even if I could imagine any of the people playing happily below wanting to, rape isn’t the only crime the rocks protect us all from.

When I realize I’ve been holding her thus for a long moment and release her horn, pet kneels by my feet, tail lashing, expectant as before.

“Mew?”

I should have known she’d find a way to make this cute. It’s comforting: I’d expected a sense of forlorn loneliness to be left guideless in this unknown place, but she’s still here and the sense of her companionship and love is still a near-physical force, just not one I can talk to in words.

_Get home when I ask for it_. _Didn’t_ I just ask to get home? Isn’t that what got us into this situation?

_Oh._ No. I asked to know how to _arrive_ home. I didn’t ask _for_ a home. That’s what all of this is about: I have to decide I want a home here and ask for one, and I have to decide it on my own. Someone like my pet, lost and Masterless, might simply be given a room, but someone like me, I wouldn’t take well to being told I live here now and where, and the rocks know it. They’ve welcomed me in, but whatever I might think the limits of my options are - Earth is gone and noone would recognize me there if I could even think about wanting to get back - the next part is my call.

Are there more options than I’m seeing right now? Something - an instinct, an odd change in pet’s affect when I think the thought, maybe nothing at all - makes the idea pound with truth, but all this does is affirm to me what I want.

There’s a face that’s been haunting me, seeming to be on every other statue as we’ve travelled, and looking around I realize it’s because it _is_ on every other statue. I’m only able to recognize it now because I’m looking for it, but many, many of the statues are statues of Sade - not individual Sade, but the god from the window in the Stained Hall, tricky at first to recognize when not split between genders.

It’s scattered around this space, like every other we’ve been through, but here there’s a sort of shrine: At the center of the bowl is an arrangement mirroring the statues that surrounded the Gates, four statues all back-to-back, dominants standing on the floor of the dungeon, upright, submissives hanging bound upside-down relative to them, long hair trailing to the dungeon floor. Ringing this is a walkway, gravity inverse to the dungeon floor but again at an angle so that the surface of the ring is shallowly conical, rim branching into catwalks that twist a quarter-turn on their axis to meet up with the balconies like ours that riddle the ‘ceiling’.

“Mew!”

More important at the moment is the inner rail of the ring, composed of dozens of different incarnations of Sade, feminine-dominant, androgynous-submissive, masculine but neither kneeling nor lording, every possibility. For better or worse, I have a sense of ritual, and once I’ve made the decision I’m taking pet’s hand and tugging her - curious look on her face - toward the ring, picking out a kneeling feminine Sade, naked, the soft and curvy kind of body I prefer, exquisitely and minutely detailed, made of a shiny green stone, the tall statue now angling away behind her because of the conical tilt of the ring surface and it’s attached gravity.

She’s large - voluptuous more than lithe, to be sure, but also _large_ , so that when I approach, her open, upturned gaze isn’t far below my eye level, and getting near enough for things to feel right puts us between her parted knees. Pet looks at the statue, then me, still curious, expectant, and presented with this image of submission I find myself putting a hand on the statue’s cheek as I might with my pet before I speak.

Connection to something not using material plane rules, reach into the dark. No idea if it’s necessary or will do anything at all, but it seems unlikely to hurt. Another blowjob would be more right, but there’s no way of making the geometry work, so I content myself with a happily-accepted and hungrily-licked thumb in pet’s mouth (suspecting she’d not maintain enough composure for this with a finger in her cunt).

“Mmmf...mm...coommf...”

“I want to live here. In Sade Hall. I want a home in a beautiful place, near people who will be good friends and...”

The captain, the cat-girl, very nearly the redheaded succubus before. And we’ve been here how long? It’s still counter to everything I thought I believed about relationships, and I truly do think I could happily never meet another sentient creature other than my pet, but I’m still going to regret it if I try to deny this next bit.

“...and good lovers to me and my pet here.”

The magic at the Gates. Pet’s very existence. This place...is about getting what you want instead of what you ask for. It’s the very opposite of a literal genie, and despite...lots of things...I need to trust that and give it leash instead of being specific.

“I want it to be comfortable and I want you to give me what will make me happy, not what I ask for. Do your mind-reading thing to me. And I want to know how to get there from here.”

There seems to be some punctuation necessary, so, quickly and before I can think better of it, I kiss the statue briefly on the lips and—

Hearts/a scorpion riding a crab/eight pentagrams arranged in a line/a starry black sky full of nebulae/a feminine succubus bound spread-eagled to unseen hardpoints with nectar pouring from her mouth and cunt/the dark king from our welcome at the gates leaning on a staff and raising a lantern/the number 1337 making me smirk...

The vision is sudden and furious, images hammering into my mind like the lines of a poem delivered in that impassioned, hurried way that makes one seem to begin before the last...no. Like holding down the ‘next’ key on one’s porn slideshow, hurtling through a stack of visions. Hurtling through and then it’s over as suddenly as it began like the window closes when the last file has been seen, leaving me dizzy with the sensation of smooth, cool stone against my lips and a feeling of confidence: my home exists, and I’ve seen the way.

Many of the images, I notice, are re-envisionings of ones we saw in the Stained Hall above.

The experience is overwhelming, surprising and intense like an unexpected and very powerful orgasm, and not totally metaphorically: there’s a charge of lust that comes through with the images, setting my heart pounding. But for the things I’ve already seen and done it would terrify, but now it’s almost...well. Cosmologists talk about the cold parts of stars, and it is in that sense mundane.

The stones are still in my pet, but this makes sense now, too: the question was how I get home, and that’s not answered until we’re there.

Wet warmth on my thumb, suddenly noticeable for the halt in pet’s enjoyment: she’s standing there, stock still as if shocked, my hand in her mouth clutched in both of hers like (rather literally, I realize, with an odd soft feeling in my heart) an oversized candy or fruit she’s been startled into forgetting. All in all she looks like, if she hasn’t just seen the same vision as me, she’s felt what it was like along with me.

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay, see, c’mere.” 

Coo. Purrrrrrrrr...

She purrs again, literally and unabashedly animal this time, when I pull her into my embrace and stroke her hair, and nuzzles against my chest as if trying to burrow into me, but I’m impatient now and so instead of stopping to enjoy it, I cast a look around, realizing how obscure the vision’s imagery is. It does, mercifully, seem to be burned into my mind in a way I won’t easily forget, the sequence of images like a deck of cards I can leaf through.

Voices, a quickly-stifled laugh followed by a sharp-but-amused rebuke, rising above the murmur of pleasure and pain from below (beside? above?). Pet follows the noise along with me, and we’re rewarded with the scene of a human-looking girl kneeling on the dungeon floor, hand over her mouth and shrunk in on herself in embarrassment, while nearby her dominant stands from crouching by her, donning a long leather jacket (a complicated maneuver: he has to work angel wings so matte black they seem to be made of darkness through slits in the shoulders) over his bare chest and shouldering an amorphous pack. The reason for her outburst isn’t evident, but that’s far less important than the big, heart-shaped locks that close the iron-looking cuffs and collar that are her only garments. 

They’re leaving, and I’m tempted to cry out but stopped by the futility, realizing what a miracle it was that anyone at the Gates spoke English at all, so instead I seize pet’s hand and—

“Neep! Oof!”

—race across the catwalks, down the wall (which turns out to be a floor of its own up close), and down to the dungeon floor - heedless of the gravity changes but careful as we pass the smattering of people on the way to not make this my experiment of whether or not accidentally blundering into someone constitutes doing something punishably nonconsensual to them. We’re just barely in time to see them disappear into a passage at the opposite edge of the floor, and when we arrive there, there’s no sign of them, but this is okay: the passage turns out to be a single catwalk proceeding down a big but short, roughly circular passage, suspended by stonework that projects from the wall of figures...

And I find that I’m grinning, amused, because the visions, I realize, aren’t the slightest bit obscure. At intervals along the hall are effigies of scorpions riding crabs in pairs, facing each other and embracing so that one scropion claw grips one crab claw from the opposite side of the passage while the creature of the same species stare each other in the face. The crabs stand on angled stones, tails high and heads low, so that the curves of the scorpions’ raised tails and lines of the top of their bodies make a heart-shaped opening for the catwalk whose surface is curved and curled organically like some human or human-compatible sexual organ I can’t place, to pass through, supported on the straight parts of the heart before the point.

There’s a different tone to the statuary here, a focus on couples and groups embracing, other pairs or trios who seem to fall, exhilarated, holding hands with white-knuckled grips, while elsewhere leashed submissives kneel before owners with fists that grip their chains tight and close, clutching the hand that holds them tightly in return, love in their eyes. More of the same imagery is laid into the surface of the catwalk against a backdrop of starry space in what looks like veins of various minerals, glowing softly with the yellow-orange light of the candle-stones. The images become more and more sparse toward the far end of the hall so that at the end the catwalk is wholly transparent, the stonework and lights behind it broken into a funhouse-distorted, rainbow-furred sex dream because it’s made of something glittering-hard with a high refractive index I give in and assume is diamond.

The path splits as the imagery peters out, curving up and around so that the gateway at the far end - heart-shaped because it’s a final quartet of arthropods - has walks laid across both the points. 

Pet looks around curiously as we walk, gazing up at the curving paths, oddly interested in the images over our heads. Something is odd, she’s been following me faithfully and gleefully as we’ve dashed for this passage, but now she’s changed, quieter and almost hesitant as we approach the next room, following closer and closer until she’s clinging to my arm urgently.

Hungrily, maybe? Stopping, I raise her face to mine for a kiss with the crook of a finger under her chin, and she complies, cooing unguardedly and clearly enjoying the kiss and my fondling hands, but still seems nervous when I release her and take her hand again.

“What’s wrong? Is something scary?” I look around, gesturing curiosity, and she follows my gaze, then looks back to me and nuzzles close, the plea in the gesture so clear I’ve wrapped arms around her before I’m even conscious of what she’s doing. If she sees something I’ve missed, it’s not something I’m going to notice without her being able to point it out, and noone else - there’s a trickle of foot traffic, coming and going from both gravities of the far end - seems perturbed by the space.

It’s okay, pet. “Shhh. We’re fine. Master’s here, see?” The combination of cooing voice and stroked hair seems to comfort her a bit, so I press on toward the gateway.

It’s dark beyond, vague lights glowing in the distance of another massive space like the Stained Hall (granting the shaky assumption that space here is even Einsteinian, let alone Euclidian) but I can see that both walks tee out into balconies with ornate shiny-black railings. Ahead of us, on the opposite gravity, a pair of winged forms (one pair iridescently feathered, the other draconically scaled) - gender obscure in the gloom and lack of clothing - stand arm-in-arm, each wrapping the other in a wing, looking over the railing beyond the gateway. 

Pet casts a long, anxious look at the pathway above as we pass through the opening and so I hurry, hoping to get her away from whatever about it is bothering her (what must this imagery feel like, without the aid of proper sentience?), and then we’re through and—


	17. Where The Heart Is

“Ahh! Oof OW sob...mrr...”

WHAM.

The moment I step beyond the opening, the floor drops from under us and there’s a sickening instant of freefall before the ceiling path collides painfully with my shoulders and back of my head, breaking my grip on pet’s hand as we roll apart with the impact and she lets out a pitiful yelp of surprise and pain. I twist, trying to see if she’s injured, and then freeze, listening to the worst sound in the world: the slowly twisting mineral creak of cracking glass.

“Sade ne ahk vijen! Makt ia was?”

Diamond. Diamond gets used all the time in sci-fi as a super material, but this is a horrible idea: it has a high refractive index, but attendantly high chromatic aberration making it terrible for optics, and its legendary hardness makes it pathetically brittle, worse than cheap window-glass by a solid order of magnitude...and this diamond pathway, suspended over the star-filled abyss from my vision, onto which we’ve just dropped from a height I feel in the throb of my head but don’t want to think about, is spiderwebbed with growing cracks.

“Ia leff eroven! Ia makt?”

Instinct drops me flat against the surface to spread my weight, and then I finally manage to twist around and see pet picking herself up, sobbing with pain and reaching toward me, trying to collect herself enough to crawl. It’s a heartbreaking sight and I very nearly kill us both and the bystanders - the pair looking over the railing before - who’ve shrunk back, away from the soon-to-be crater - by jumping up and running to her.

“No! Lie flat! Down, like me!”

Even my gestures are too violent as I motion her down with a flattened palm, making the diamond pop ominously beneath me as I move.

Pet’s landed nearer the entry than I have: her best chance is back into the hallway, while mine is the railing of proper stone.

“Go back! No! Back! That way! Go—agh!”

“Ia makt!? Eroven! _Leff eroven!_ ”

I’ve been trying to inch away toward the rail at the same time as I’m trying to dissuade her from following me, but sudden pain stops me: the broken diamond is beginning to sag unevenly with my weight, whatever force holds it together unraveling, allowing the razor-sharp points of the shards to cut long gashes in my leg and side. They’re deep, and serious: I can already feel the hot blood pooling around me.

Spots swim before my eyes and terror recurses: this new heart and the strength that can keep me hard indefinitely, that can give me unflagging endurance, also has the strength to empty my veins with terrifying speed. I’d felt invincible, indestructible, when I saw my reflection on the ship, but now the skin I’m convinced has become more sensitive feels desperately delicate and soft as the splintered diamond parts it like a liquid. I’m strong, and impressive, and it’s starting to sink in that maybe there’s a definite purpose to how I’m built now, but I’m not any kind of war machine.

Pet shrinks back at my rebuke for a moment, tears in her eyes, then tries again, rising carefully to hands and knees, reaching out with hope in her eyes and making to come toward me, the diamond letting out terrible sounds as she moves.

“Stop! STOP!” I hurl the word at her, terrified, one hand outstretched gesturing her away, and she finally halts, jerking back suddenly, and then seems to struggle as if held by some physical force, still trying to reach me, face crumbling with rejection.

“Leff eroven! Ugh...IA! IA! _VUO IA!_ ”

It’s one of the bystander pair, clapping his hands and shouting, desperate for my attention. When I turn, he drops the hand of his lover - who immediately clings to his arm instead - and makes a gesture, bringing both of his hands together in front of him, knocking a flurry of brightly-luminous-pink petals from the bouquet of flowers he clutches, forgotten, in one hand.

“Eroven!”

When I don’t immediately seem to understand, he turns to his lover and they have a fast, murmured, two-sentence argument that’s obviously going to be revisited later, and then she lets his arm go and turns away and, as she stays that way for an instant that to her is very clearly several thousand years, cracks spread, menacing, under both their feet...and then vanish the moment she turns back.

What? There’s no time.

“I’m sorry! Come to me! Please!”

The horror on pet’s face drains away as soon as I make the come-hither gesture, and she bounds at me as if suddenly let off a chain, pouncing on my outstretched hand and then gripping with surprising strength even as the floor lets go with a terrible-but-suddenly-truncated shattering sound at her impact and then—

Oh. We’re lying on solid, whole diamond, no sign of cracks. Pet’s pulled herself nearer, and lifts our now clutching hands, then with her free hand pounds twice on the surface, yielding the dull thud of solid, thick stone. All I can do in response is grimace at the pain of my wounds, but when I do, pet looks at me with the same heartbroken concern I’m feeling for her, and then presents her tail to my free hand, looping around when I take it and wincing at the white-knuckled grip that is all I’m capable of at the moment, yet looking somehow comforted by this, as if the pain tells her I’m definitely not letting go. She hesitates, licking her lips questioningly, and I nod.

Liiick...pfeh. “Ech, pfoo.”

I feel a bit bad as she licks my wounds - she has little nectar, being so upset, and her disgust at the taste of blood is obvious as she spits the mouthful of it aside after each lick - but she seems to have come out of the fall in far better shape than I have, and hasn’t been trying to crawl across shattered gemstone.

Even half-animal, she’s dedicated and loves me: I have to steel myself against the freakish, violently-wrong sensation of her tongue reaching into the wound that has, I think, opened my femoral artery, and the even stranger feeling of the flesh knitting back together as she withdraws.

At length, I’m no longer bleeding out, and we lie there for a moment, both panting, the world tilting around me as I recover from concussion and blood loss and slowly manage to gingerly pull pet into my arms, feeling her for wounds as I go but finding none obvious. She clings tightly when embraced, sniffles, and then nestles into me, gripping tighter still, wracked with quiet sobs that leave the crook of my shoulder where she rests wet with her black tears.

There’s a question, a terrible fear, in her expression, when I lift her face to mine to kiss away her tears, and I follow with a sweet kiss to her mouth, still tasting strange and metallic with my blood.

“Hey, it’s okay. You did good. You saved my life. Good girl.”

Watery smile, tentative, warming when I smile back.

“I didn’t want you to go away. I don’t want you to go away. Never leave me. I love you.”

She can’t understand the words, but she seems to understand the tightness of my embrace and her tail still clutched in my hand, though less throbbingly tight now.

Our saviors have gone when we manage to rise - thinking back more calmly now, I can remember another murmured exchange as pet healed me, no doubt the argument over whether to stay and help further, obviously decided in favor of departure.

Taking pet’s hand (but keeping her tail, as well, for good measure), I turn to take in our surroundings and—gah!

Right behind me, standing perfectly still and perfectly silent, is a small, delicate girl with fine features of another off-Earth ethnicity, porcelain-white skin, and long, gently-wavy black hair. She’s close enough for me to feel her breath, but seems to have none, presumably for the same reason my pet doesn’t when she wants not to.

She smiles in greeting, three times.

Triplets?

They’re dressed as maids, but it’s curious: they assuredly won’t be caught dusting the books of Downton Abbey in the short-cut, short-sleeved, laces-over-skin-backed black-and-white-frilly dresses they wear, but neither are these full-on hentai sexy-maid outfits, rendering them sort of shockingly down-to-earth and practical in the context. All three carry massive towels they seem barely large enough to lift, two dripping wet while the third is dry. One triplet smiles recognizingly at my pet, who returns the expression, another assesses me with a pitying look and then seems to decide I’m okay, while the third sets immediately to work, kneeling (surprisingly and expertly modest in her short skirt) to mop up the pool of blood I’ve left, leaving me thinking I should feel worse for the amount of blood I’ve lost until I remember my near-doubled body mass.

The two who greeted us join the work, turning back to shoo us off when it seems like we might feel obligated to stay, so, placing pet’s hand against my side so I can put my free arm around her waist, comforted when she responds with a wing wrapped around me like a silky blanket, we finally look around.

Beyond the railing of our balcony that clings to the side of a mountain, is a darkened landscape, towers and mountains both thousands of feet tall, some of shiny black rock, some of the dully-gleaming sliver-stone, some glowing here and there with windows or doors and the eerily-romantic lights of Sade Hall in the Sea while others are visible only by the black holes left as they occult the sky of shifting, shimmering stars and brilliant, luridly-colored aurorae. Massive buttresses, plateaus, and terraces connect the towers, making the landscape unearthly and three-dimensional instead of simply a dark city painted at ridiculous scale, and on them where they’re made of diamond tiny shadows against the aurorae seem to betray the presence of people playing, or fucking, or looking at the lights. There seems to be no bottom, the towers and mountains growing out of a tangled landscape of crevasses and intertwining statuary that often piles into towers of its own, the figures fucking each other but all looking skyward and reaching skyward, marked here and there with windows or other signs of life. Here and there, the water that seems to everwhere here shoots upward from the landscape, falling into the sky to join the stars.

At least, this is what we’d see if we weren’t (as I’ll learn later) Hollow Hearts in love, but we are, and so we’re perched on a delicate diamond walkway against the side of a huge downward projection of sliver-stone. Beneath us and all around is a bottomless abyss of stars and aurorae, beautiful and terrifying for the way the hypnotic shifting prevents the usual strategy of not looking down, while above the dark landscape of crevasses and stonework makes a shadowed roof, far away, glowing here and there from within. More walkways of diamond thread in and out of the sliver-stone, sometimes clinging to the side of it like we do, sometimes enclosed with irregular windows looking out, sometimes arcing through open space to join one jut of stone to another or reach islands of rock and buildings that hang suspended by nothing near the larger mountains and towers. A soft, almost-imperceptible winds floats around us, seemingly directionless, but omnipresent, and to us the statues cling to each other, dangling downward, staring into the abyss.

Other couples and groups dot the walkway, sparsely - none near enough to rush to our aid or probably even see what was happening before: nearby, a huge gray-skinned masculine with a forest of smooth, phallic tentacles instead of wings seems to be alone until I glimpse the bronzy skin of the human girl in his embrace, carried, nearly hidden by the tentacles that fondle and ensnare her. In the opposite direction, two tall feminine forms stand arm-in-arm, tails around each others’ hips, sharing kisses or whispers with someone smaller who sits on the railing, details obscured by their ministrations.

We’ve somehow skipped the row of pentagrams - assuming the visions were intended to happen in order - but there’s no question, this is the starry sky I saw, unlike anything else I can imagine...

“ _NEEP!_ Nnnn! Nf...”

A squeak of terror from pet, followed by her weight tugging me back from the railing where I realize I’ve been leaning toward the edge to gaze into the void, curious.

“Okay, okay, sorry. We have had enough almost-falling for one immortal lifetime, I agree.”

I let her draw me back, and then give her a comforting squeeze, but this doesn’t seem to calm her. Slowly, leaning into me and tightening her tail around my hand that isn’t on her waist, she takes her free hand from my arm and collects a handful of the fallen flower petals from the top of the railing, and, rearing back, hurls them with all her might into the void.

They flutter and flip lazily over the edge, in the obstinate way things too light to be thrown always do, slowly dancing into the abyss, drawing the attention of the few people who share the walkway with us...

And then they’re past the edge of projecting statuary on the outside of the railing, and blur suddenly downward as if they’ve become droplets of neutronium. Pet’s clinging keeps me from rushing to the edge to follow their flight, so instead I watch them drop through the clear diamond walkway, looking between our feet at the bright pink pinpricks blurred with chromatic aberration and plummeting, dragged by Einstein’s wrathful ghost. And regret my childhood of messsing with game physics, reading up on relativity and gravity and black holes and thereby gaining the ability to guess the difference between a square and quartic acceleration, and thereby knowing what it means when the pinpricks seem to stretch out, then flare suddenly to eyeblink-short flashes of light and are gone.

The gravity beyond the railing isn’t just horrifyingly strong, it _increases with depth_ (with time?), exponentially. Factorially. Worse. Invent some ridiculous recursive factorial-to-the-factorialth power function, cube it, and make that the rate of increase.

The stars, the aurorae, all the lights in the abyss, are infalling bits of matter, water from the falls, _air_ , being torn apart at the quark (if that, looking at this I can believe that if string theory is true and works in this universe I’m watching the strings themselves somehow unravel in the face of this force) level by gravitational tidal forces, and it is so far, far worse than a black hole, because you can at least orbit a black hole.

_This is the entire sky_. This is the gravity we feel, the stars beneath our feet.

Weirdly, not everyone in the space seems subject to it: above our heads, and elsewhere following the Hall’s usual systemic disdain for concepts of up and down, are more walkways, some even made of real stone, dotted sparsely with people admiring the sky or ambling, many alone. It’s evident who does feel the force, because they all stand along the same axis of gravity as we do and cling tightly to their lovers. 

Something must shield some of the radiation, or all of the structures and people would be vapor, but it doesn’t shield the terrible, soul-breaking, rapturous beauty of it all.

I draw pet closer in to my side, and she nuzzles, hiding her face in me.

No, there will be no need for shielding. We’re probably looking at hard gamma-rays redshifted all the way to visible light by the same gravity that produced them.

“How does this _fit_?”

But of course, if you can do this to gravity, you don’t need to care if the room you’re trying to build can actually fit inside the building you’re putting it in.

“Memew?” Nuzzle.

The urge to stroke her hair soothingly would be irresistable, if I were interested in resisting it.

“I love you.”

Purrr.

It’s sweet how she can tell when I’m saying that, words or no.

But where do we _go_? The next vision had been the overflowing succubus, which has got to be a statue, but I can’t see it from where we stand, if it’s here. 

Having finished their work surprisingly quickly, the maid triplets pass through my line of sight, walking single file, gazes fixed on something in the distance...more maids. Five of them standing side-by-side at the railing and regarding the view, all identical, all in the same prim pose standing straight with hands clasped behind their backs. They’re a few hundred yards away along the mountainside, on another walkway that seems to parallel ours maybe fifteen feet lower down.

Octuplets?

The laces, in the backs of their dresses, trace out inverted pentagrams, points of the stars picking out the places my eyes were headed anyway, unnoticed before among all the other wonders. They’ve split up because I attracted their attention making a mess, but there are eight. Eight pentagrams in a line, all alike. 

I turn my gaze back to the trio near us just in time to see them step into the shadow of a bit of sliver-stone that splits from the mountain above to make a crook in which our pathway is perched as it follows the mountainside, and vanish.

They immediately reappear behind their...sisters?...and are greeted with incongruous passion, swarmed, kissed and embraced like lost lovers, and then the eight depart, single file, heading further along their walkway...fuck!

Unravelling from pet’s embrace takes a maddeningly long half second, and then I have her by the hand and we’re in front of the shadow the three jumped into and I’m pointing, to the maids, then the shadow, and pet is looking at it curiously, squinting.

“Mrf. Mew. Neep oof!”

The second sound is directed at me with furrowed brows, annoyance at something I’m...right. But there’s no time, and no creepy dark possibly-infinite passageway to put me in the proper mood, so I seize her hand again and tug us onward after them, pelting as fast as we can, brittleness of the pathway forgotten. The lovers we pass all seem contemplative and quiet, focused on each other, the ones who do look up doing so with annoyance at our lack of reverence, and in the space this feels as right as it felt coming so repeatedly close to being preyed on by something met in the darkness did in the place we came from.

The paths do parallel, and I can just keep sight of the maids as we twist and turn through the mountainside, sometimes in sliver-stone archways, sometimes under open space, the stars always beneath our feet, and then eventually, blessedly, we come through an archway in an outcropping of the mountain like a wall, and for the first time since entering here we’re standing on solid stone. The pathway below and ours join via stairs - the maids’ upwards, ours downwards, onto a platform that connects several other walks as well.

Opposite the stairs is an edge with no railing, and the maids head for this, joining hands and bending their path so that they now walk eight abreast instead of single file, and then, without blinking, step off.

They don’t fall.

This new valley seems like some type of nexus, a place where a handful of the inverted mountain ranges come together, narrow and steep, the near-vertical walls dotted with shards of ornamentation: a statue here, an opening glowing from within there. What light there is that doesn’t come eerily up from the abyss glows from huge green or pink crystals - but here it’s marbled throughout the mountainsides, denser and denser toward the tips, pointing out how this place seems to be some type of focusing point. In the distance, I can see four other precipices like the one the maids have just stepped off, equidistant from each other, and realize that all five are the outstretched hands of huge effigies, intertwined groups of lovers reaching out pairs or trios of arms together. 

The maids, now well out into walking on empty air, are headed for a trio of lovers wreathed in flames of the red-orange translucent crystal that lit the enclosed place we came from, but to their right, the statue is the overflowing femme succubus from my vision, waterfalls from her mouth and between her legs, pinioned open to face the abyss by the tentacles of her partner, head bending back to kiss them (the body is feminine, the tentacles are...not).

The vision of the stars, was seen between my feet. I’d thought it was a reference to the diamond walkways, or the kind of courage even stepping in here would take, but no. The visions are literal.

“Mew! Ee!” Bounce bounce.

Pet tugs, bouncing on her heels and trying to run ahead, when it’s apparent that our path follows the maids off the edge.

What?

And then she’s burrowing under my arm, up against my side so that she’s embraced and not just holding my hand, clinging tightly to me but still egging us on, looking at me with confusion and a strange note of hurt when my steps falter.

Oh.

“Mew?”

Literal leaps of faith in fiction always ring false to me, because it’s always obvious that the faith is going to be rewarded. It’s obvious here, too, or so I tell myself, but that doesn’t make it feel the least bit easier to take that first step.

Approaching, fighting my feet not to slow down, I regard the edge.

There’s metaphor and allegory and then there’s...whatever it is Sade Hall does, turning memories into the statues without anyone’s intervention. And this. Metaphors going backward, art in reverse.

Backward. This isn’t a challenge or riddle, this is a party, just as sure as the welcome at the gates, and it’s obvious enough what we’re celebrating here. Pet gets it, can _feel_ it, unclouded by rational thought as she is at the moment.

Don’t I want to party a little, after all we’ve been through to get here?

The decision makes my heart pound in my throat, but I don’t slow down.

Gathering my pet to me and taking a breath, I step off the edge and she steps with me, and our feet sink into something soft like moss or the surface of a bed, yielding but supportive, and then we’re walking, drawn on by the strange charge of excitement and curiosity in the air, our steps quick but unsteady on the soft surface, making us grin at each other as we stumble together.

There really is a strange charge in the air, something that gets into us as we walk like an insistent lover with a hand down my pants. Pet feels it too, fairly vibrating as we walk, excited, and I release her from my side so that we’re holding hands instead and can run free, pelting along the bridge, at last only trying to keep up with ourselves instead of run from or to something, and—

“Ooof!” Giggle!

It is like a bed, infinitely silky and frictionless so that as we tumble, overenthusiastic footsteps tripping and dropping us to whatever non-surface this is we skate softly to a stop, and yet it’s possible to brace against the force so that we can climb on each other, so that I can get enough leverage to hold her down by her neck beneath me as we kiss, forcing her legs apart with my own thighs. I rip the towel free, tossing it aside and—

“Bwahahahahaha!”

She bursts into breathy hilarity as it leaves my grip and rockets into the void, vanishing in a brilliant flare far below as we watch, and I have to laugh in turn, because so what? It was just getting in the way of blowjobs, and then pet’s soft body is wrapping around me, hungry, and I’m surprised at my own ability to respond while suspended over this terrifying abyss but I _can_ because the truth is my pet’s right here and not going anywhere and this is just exhilarating, not terrifying.

She’s grinding against me, hungry, pressing my hardness between us in response to my embrace and wetting it expertly with her softening, already-slick lips, making out with my cock as much as my mouth and then the beautiful weirdness of the realization that that’s more literal than metaphorical with a succubus nearly makes me come, but I _must_ be in her first... 

Something odd with the geometry between us, or maybe just virginial inexperience, makes me miss once, twice, trying to enter her, and then finally I understand what I’ve (amazingly, unless I’m still changing) been too distracted to notice: I haven’t just gotten more muscular, and I have to pull myself much further down her, and work against a much tighter fit, than when we had sex on the raft. She’s been giggling and cooing as we play, but when I catch the angle and feel the resistance suddenly yield and pause at her entrance to take her by the neck again, one of her other arms clutched in my free hand that also supports me looming over her - possible by the infinite softness of the unphysical bridge - she stops, lips parted in a lustful smile, looking at me just a bit nervous, breath tense, and then she’s crying out in harmonic-wreathed lust as I enter, mouth wide, eyes squeezed shut with the intensity of it, questing hips stilled in surrender.

She’s as wet as ever, soon to be flowing, but the tightness of the fit makes me take her slowly, penetration gauged by the way her eyes fight open to look into mine, close again in pleasure, or start to wince with pain if I push too quickly, and then I’m stopping because the end of her cunt is tight around my head, but when I push just a bit, unable to resist, she yields stretchily inside and furrows her brow in overwhelming pleasure-and-pain, lips licked and moving in wordless plea, and her legs wrap around me, pulling, so I push again, slow, but insistent and slowly, slowly, I can work the rest of way in while pet gasps, panting breath warm and sweet on my face and it comes to me that I’m being just as dramatic, ragged breaths unvoiced but urgent and then there’s a sudden increase in resistance followed by a sudden gasping yelp from pet, just as our mounds meet, and the sudden sensation drives me over the edge all at once, turning the throbbing tension of going slowly into the pounding of orgasm and I’ve shifted my grip to drive us together, clutching pet’s hips to pull them into mine, and she’s crying out the intensity of it, suddenly silenced because I _must_ kiss her and when I do it’s like drinking her because her mouth is full of the same nectar as her cunt again, as if that dismissal has returned, impossibly slick and lusty-tasting, like I can fuck her with my tongue.

Something soft and smooth like a finger traces at the small of my back and down the meeting of my ass cheeks, and I finally notice the tightness of her tail wrapped around my thigh, and then the soft triangle of her barb laid against one side of my ass, caressing, reminding me of its bareness in this very public spot.

She writhes against me, still cooing full-voiced into our kiss with the force of it all, cunt drinking hungrily as I come and come - apparently my cock isn’t the only thing that’s become bigger - legs and arms and wings all wrapped around me, clinging, voice in my mouth growing higher and more urgent as I pump into her, and then I’m breaking the kiss to look at her because there’s a strange note of restraint in her way.

Nectar strings out between us when I break the kiss, and then floats away, untouched by any gravity.

Her face is confused, lustful, intense, desperate, blurred with the tapering-off end of my own orgasm. She looks about to come herself, but...oh.

“It’s okay. Come for me.”

Pet smiles, fractionally, at the tone, but of course the words don’t mean anything to her, so I shift my grip, pulling her hips to mine with one hand, trying to shift my weight to work against her clit more, and she pulls away more, so I clutch her to me tighter still, nodding in response to her questioning expression, trying still to find the right angle between our bodies...

“Yes. Come for me.”

And then something shifts in the way her cunt’s lips wrap around me and her hands clap to my face as if by clinging to my cheeks she can keep from being thrown into the void while her eyes screw shut and she throws her head back and seems to fight for just an instant before the unmistakeable tone of my reassuring “Yes! Good girl!” removes any shred of restraint and her hands slip from my face to be thrown once more around my neck and then she’s arched against me, pressing and going just fractionally slack again and again with the rhythm of her orgasm, clinging tight as she gasps out her cries or yields to my kiss so that I can drink the nectar that fills her mouth when she comes. It seems, gloriously, to go on forever, an endless symphony of lustful voice, soft body wrapped around mine, breasts and mound and thighs pressed against me, cunt clutching and tugging in rhythm with it all, but finally she’s subsiding, breathing hard, fighting her eyes open to look at me and see what I hope is the warmest, most loving smile I can give, smiling back, expression naked, tender, loved.

Just for a moment, I let it linger, and then her half-mast eyes are wide and she’s looking down between us, gasping again, because I’m withdrawing my still-hard, still-huge cock from her, and then driving it slowly - though faster than before - back into her, and then again, and again, getting in the fuck we didn’t when I so needed to come, gaining myself a beautiful gasping coo from my pet on every quickening stroke and a wave of soft warm pleasure that could be the magic of the place or some unknown superpower of pet’s or just my own lust each time her soft smooth mound meets my newly-bare one. At length she collects herself enough to fuck me back, pulling herself by limbs wrapped around me onto my cock with each stroke, looking back and forth between my face and down the length of our bodies with a lopsided smile that opens occasionally into an expression of overwhelmed...intensity as...I...again? Already?

I’m already clutching her to me, reflexive, driven by some instinct as old as the rocks of this place to bury myself as deeply in her as possible, by the time I realize the orgasm has been building practically since the previous one subsided - unless the few seconds of pet’s orgasm were actually long minutes, the way it took me before. Which is quite possible.

She doesn’t need words to understand what I need, and smiles sweetly with half-mast eyes driven narrow by the intensity and (I can’t help but assume, as the nuance of what sex with a succubus actually is settles into my mind) taste of my cock and come inside her, reciprocating my desperate embrace with a fullness I recognize as being all her strength, and finally it’s over but of course the only thing that’s over is my orgasm and neither my hardness inside my pet nor her limbs around me nor especially the maddening, persistent energy of this place are going anywhere and so even as we lie entwined and mated I’m planning how I’m going to withdraw, and take her tail in my hand again, and pull her onto me as I lie back so that she can lick me clean before sucking me off for a third orgasm.

She lets out a last gasp and cry as I pull out, cunt clutching as if she could hold me inside her by sheer strength (she very well might, with just a bit more tightness), and then I’ve plucked her tail from my thigh (she traces the barb along a caressing course down my ass and around the inside of my thigh as I pull, then immediately wraps it around my hand) and am sitting carefully up, pulling her by a hand to turn us over, and suddenly as her center of (hah) gravity moves beneath her she flips, the legs she tried to place beneath herself sliding frictionlessly out from beneath her so that she’s deposited on her stomach, looking up at me in surprise, with a sudden breathy “oof”. The magic still supports her, but she seems no longer to be able to find any purchase against it - it’s become a frictionless cradle, leaving her helplessly (but apparently comfortably) suspended in space.

“Mew? Mew!”

She tries, futilely, to push toward me, then to rise, but her limbs just slip from beneath her, still finding no support. Startled, I reflexively pull her toward me and suddenly she’s colliding with my lap, soft breasts piled up between my thighs, and the impact makes me realize that in sitting up I’ve somehow braced against the force that supports us like a backrest. I’d think that the spell was failing, or running out, but if anything it feels stronger, more solid, underneath me. 

Why do I suddenly get a backrest? Because this magic works the same way the rest of the magic here does, doing what I want rather than what I mean or ask for. The force is an infinitely soft and slippery bed, unless you mean to walk on it or brace against it for sex...and one or both of us has decided that pet’s surrender means she should give up this power, or give it to me.

Did I take, or did she give?

Or did she give at the gates, when she gave everything else?

Pet’s eyes are on my glistening cock despite everything, but she has to mew in frustration instead of lick because I’m pulling us to our feet, supporting her with my hands on her waist as her feet slip and slide on the frictionless bed, and then her eyes widen in surprise as she finds herself pinned against a vertical wall of this force by my weight against her. Her limbs are around me again in an instant and she’s using the leverage to settle my shaft between her outer lips and run them hopefully up it.

Oh yes, little one. Before she can even finish this first stroke my hands still on her waist lift her to my tip and she expertly positions herself to be impaled, lips surrounding me as if kissing, then widening along with her eyes as I let her own weight draw her down onto me. Freed of using them to support myself and with the weight of my hips pinning her to the insubstantial wall, I can run my hands over her body as we fuck, but some instinct draws them to feel her thighs, and her legs about me. She holds them high, folded to thrust her hips out and better grind her cunt against me...what an excellent idea. Taking her legs behind the knees and watching her face for the pain of being forced beyond the limit of her flexibility, I push her legs out and back until they’re nearly behind her ears, are behind her ears - of course she’d be supernaturally flexible - pulling her arms from around my neck to hold them back, splayed and helpless.

It makes her cunt into a softness I can grind against like a hand around the base of my cock, but I don’t just yet, because the desire to get my hands between us and feel her thrust-out mound has made me realize my lack of imagination. I can mean to brace myself. Can I mean to brace my pet? Taking her calves and pushing back just a bit further, intending to ‘hook’ her feet in the force that supports us does it, and she’s pinned, helpless - I daren’t let go entirely, but now my hands are free to run down the backs of her legs to meet over her mound and cunt as she struggles experimentally and then surrenders with an odd smile I’ll choose to take as ‘I can’t believe you’re getting this much mileage out of this’.

She coos, soft and lustful, as I explore her mound, and outer lips, and the tightness of inner lips that surround my impaling shaft, and squirms just a bit embarrassed when I run the loops of tail in my hand against my shaft and then her lips...

“Oooohooo...”

Where there’s tail, there’s a very sensitive barb, and where there’s a sensitive barb there’s the wish to lick and kiss it while watching pet’s face, but first it needs a bit of...flavoring. There’s little room to work, between our bodies, but that just makes things more fun and means I have to drag the points against both our forms, against her lips and my mound, as I run it through the glistening nectar that’s welled up around my cock, reeking of flowers and lust.

More nectar strings out, floating away untouched by any gravity, glittering as it catches the lights around us (does it sparkle on its own, or is that the setting?), as I bring her barb to my mouth and she closes her eyes and bites her lip, fang hooked over the outside, in anticipation of my tongue’s ministration. The taste of it is thrilling as always in my mouth, and the impossible softness of her barb slippery with nectar so like licking the folds of her cunt or caressing her slick little tongue with my own...only her cry of pleasure and surprise brings me to myself enough to realize I’ve drawn almost the whole barb into my mouth in my quest to feel its curves and clean it of nectar.

There’s no describing the mix of pleasure, surprise, and affection on her face when I open my eyes again, withdrawing her tail and reaching again to make it drip. All you can do with a face like that is kiss it, and when I do I’m rewarded with a big drink of the same thick, slippery nectar I’ve just been enjoying from her pussy, making her lips and tongue so impossibly slick, sliding over mine softly as we move. Distracted, I start when her barb caresses my cheek because I’ve brought that hand back up as if to cup her face, then get the best idea and pull back from the kiss just a bit, followed as expected by pet’s questing tongue...

“Unnff, mmm!”

...and slip the tip of her barb between our lips so that it joins in the kiss, drawing a musical exclamation of surprise and lust from pet, cooed softly into my mouth as we set to work, and then she’s arching against me and cooing properly because my free hand has gone to her cunt to set to work on her clit in time with the motion of our tongues.

I need to actually fuck her, oh yes - my cock throbs where it drowns in the sea of nectar she’s making - but she’s going to be coming when I do. She struggles helplessly again, or perhaps just lets herself writhe, freed by the bondage of the need to pay attention to how, and then before long at all the moans she breathes into our kiss are taking on a note of urgency, becoming rhythmic and higher and higher, and when it seems she’s on the edge again I pull the tip of her barb into my mouth, breaking our kiss to pin it between my lips and circle the point with my tongue as if it were her clit, mirroring the motion with my fingers between her legs, and with a sudden sound of surprise it’s worked and she’s over the edge, coming without having the chance at that moment of resistance that comes of knowing she should ask permission but lacking the words to do so and then her cunt clenches throbbingly around me and everything is forgotten because I’m driving myself into her, bringing the slipperiness of our mounds together with a sharp soft impact that splashes with the nectar my cock’s sudden presence drives out of her, pinning her wide eyes with my own, intent, her breasts flattened against my chest, their softness running over me like warm milk, and then we’re fucking, proper and vigorous, pet letting out a cry of pleasure at the end of each stroke where I find the limit of her cunt, over and over above the throes of her orgasm that seems unable to end so long as I pound.

She clenches as I thrust, supernaturally tight against the supernatural slickness of her nectar, and something shifts, pulled back along my shaft, and it feels like the head expands, freed, is plunged into an ocean of warm nectar, infinitely soft and wet: by sheer force of clenching she’s drawn back my foreskin, letting my head free to be doused in nectar and splay out - an intensity that makes us both shudder in pleasure - when I pull back for the next stroke, and then I’m joining her in orgasm because there’s no way to feel this and not come, my newly exposed head and the skin pulled taut along my shaft burning inside her, feeling like I’m held together only by the pressure of her cunt around me. Our eyes lock for just an instant, before hers squeeze shut and she licks her lips, tasting my come while I’m lost in the intensity...

It’s our breathing, gasping together in a lingering of the rhythm of our sex, that drifts back first, coming back down from the orgasm. Pet is still pinned, still helpless, still impaled by my still-hard (though now, finally, much less urgent-feeling) cock, looking at me with a relaxed, affectionate smile as we collect ourselves.

I still feel newly naked and wet inside her, head still exposed, and I let us spend a long while just resting together, basking in the feel of it, before I begin, slowly, to withdraw, wondering if when I reach her entrance I’ll be _able_ to withdraw past it in this state, but when I do I can feel pet consciously relax and allow me out and I pop free with a gasp from her and shudder from myself and then I’m regarding her, caressing again her helpless form, cheek to neck to breast to midriff and still-hot, soaking cunt, basking on my orgasm-unsteady legs in the wet softness of her flesh and coos of pleasure at my touch, the moments of her affectionate gaze between her closing eyes and lolling head.

A constellation of nectar, splashed free by the force of our lust surrounds us, glittering with the refracted light of the abyss, as I set my hands at pet’s waist and pull her free. We both feel it when her limbs ‘unhook’ from the force, but no weight drops into my hands or onto her limbs as she puts them around me. She can obviously feel it, eyes wide with surprise, expression as if unsure whether to laugh or cling to me in terror.

Her tail is still in my hand, and I can hold onto her now with a grip that will probably crush her if I’m not careful. Slowly, I pull her away from me, kissing deep and sweet as I pull so that she won’t take the action as rejection, and she complies, releasing her hold, and when she stays weightless I let go her hand and she’s floating, limbs free, looking around herself in wonder, held to me only by her tail in my hand...until I reach out to take hold of her cunt, working my fingers in among the full, soft lips, still blooming open from sex, and, watching her face, push inside. The pressure drives her away from me for an instant, and then there’s a softness on my wrist and I have leverage: she’s taken me by the wrist and is trying to work herself down onto my penetrating fingers, trying to work my hand against her lips and clit to best advantage, moaning full-voiced and loud with the pleasure of it all. 

She’s a beautiful sight, suspended against the starry sky, helpless, eyes on mine, mouth open and soft with pleasure in that inviting way, breasts squeezed together by her arms on their way between her legs. It’d be easy to get lost in if not for the wet warmth devouring my fingers keeping me on task. After the third orgasm in a row, I should feel less urgent, should at least find myself able to bask in the superhuman softness of her cunt’s kiss without being distracted by my cock throbbing to fuck again. I’d even expected my pet’s voraciousness to be slaked at least a little, but she seems as hungry as I feel, as if each time together is filing away some barrier between us and the excitement of this drives us on. What next?

“Mmmm...cooo...nngh, ooh...”

The hook on one of her cuffs jingles as we move, cool against my skin, inspiring, and then as soon as I’ve made the decision the thought crystallizes and I see that the next image, the spread-eagled, nectar-flowing femme, wasn’t a statue, but my very own sweet little pet. The hardpoints weren’t unseen, they were invisible.

Giggle...oof! Mmf!

She of course simply moves with my hand, it being the only thing she can touch, when I try to withdraw it from her, and then finds her thighs braced against a hump of force that drives them open even as is holds her up as my hand departs, pulling from her grip to the sound of a whine of frustration cut off in surprise when I take her wrists and fix them above her head, wide apart, and then pull her legs open and brace them too, pulled tight so that she’s strung like a bow, unable to move for the tightness of it. She gives a high little ‘mf’ of pleasure or surprise at the firmness of my grip as I fix each limb, and then exhales, relaxing, watching me expectantly, and I let her wonder for just a moment before I return to pleasuring...no. Exploring, enjoying. Using.

It still draws coos of pleasure from her, but there’s a note of frustration in them, of need: how close to coming had she been? If this place is affecting her anything like the way it’s affecting me, this sudden helplessness will feel very helpless indeed, and I can’t help teasing just a little, just to see her struggle. Does this make me cruel? It’s clear that it makes her horny.

Her cunt is glorious, now that I have the time and focus to explore it properly, the outer lips thick and soft, noticeably engorged and standing out, the inner ones soft and infinitely slick, parting easily to allow me entrance, then kissing sweetly as I run my fingers up the space of perfect smoothness...

“OoohhaaaaAAH...”

...that leads from her entrance to her clit, where I set to work, my eyes fixed on hers in what I hope is an expression that will communicate ‘you’re going to be made to come now, and there’s nothing you can do about it’ to her wordless mind. She seems to understand, breathing and cooing in time with my fingers’ motion, voice growing higher and thinner as she comes to the edge...

“Mew? MEW! MRR!”

...and crying in desperation when I withdraw my hand. She doesn’t struggle, seeming to understand her helplessness, but her eyes plead with mine, begging, breasts still heaving with the rush of her almost-orgasm. 

Motion, in the background: someone or someones have stopped to watch us, but I pay them no more attention than to note their existence and be pleased to have an audience.

Pet’s eyes are pinned to me, and she licks her lips between gasps, forcing me to kiss them, deep and gentle. She moans into it, loud and unabashed, and arches her whole body against me, trying futilely to embrace me, following me with head and then lips and then finally tongue as I withdraw, breaking the kiss slowly, showing my affection even as this feels redundant for the fire of lust she drinks out of me.

“...mew...”

Brow furrowed with lust, pleading voice, quiet, surrendering, eyes full of hope. Good. Glorious.

I take a step back, regarding her spread-eagled beauty against the glow of the deadly sky, and reach out...

“mmmmmfff...ooooh....nnn...”

...taking a big handful of nectar from her cunt, first one hand, then the other, reaching inside to make my hands slick with it, and then give in to my cock’s insistent throbbing and, rubbing the slippery, stretching, never-drying, candy-sex-smelling liquid lust onto my shaft, wrap both hands around myself - it takes both, now - and nearly fall on my ass, letting out a cry of my own: I’ve forgotten my pulled-back foreskin and exposed head, running nectar-fingers and succubus tail over it all sudden and heavy, and the sensation overwhelms, terrifyingly sensitive, a feeling I somewhat prepare for putting my cock inside a demon of lust but that takes me wholly unawares now, magnified by the way pet looks at me as I set to work on myself.

I’ve never masturbated with access to proper lube, or without the constant threat of interruption, and the way my fingers slickly bump over my head is vision-blurringly intense and luscious, a feeling that seems to reach down inside me and make me thrust violently and involuntarily, making pet smile lopsidedly despite her frustration as she watches me, eyes staying firmly between my...legs...

“Mew...mew!”

It’s taken only seconds to come, and I nearly botch my plan, forgetting myself in the intensity of it, but when it’s obvious that I’m over the edge pet seems to realize something and looks to my face, pleading, then back to my cock, then fixes my eyes with her hungry, pleading gaze and I remember at the last moment to cup one hand, the one not full of tail, over my tip and collect the come. I’m not sure in the moment if it’s affected by gravity, but it fills my hand, the load as large as it feels coming out. Something warm and nectar-slick cups my balls as I gasp: pet’s tail, clutched alongside my shaft, has just enough length to reach them and she lays the barb against them, fondling, pressing as if to make sure every drop has been squeezed out of me.

Finally, wrung out, I subside. 

I’ve cupped my hand, trying to collect all the come in a pool so I can dip it out for her, but it’s done as come does and become more of a coating, and I decide this will actually be useful, as it leaves me a hand free to take hold of one of her horns before bringing the meal to her lips.

Nnnnf!

She reaches for it, pulling against my hand as it comes near, tongue reaching out to try and lick at me, so I withdraw, just beyond reach, waiting for her to give in.

“Mew! Meeew! Mrr!”

Brows furrowed, expression pleading, confused, voice pitiful.

It’s tempting to give in to that need, but I am going to feed her, and though her hunger and aggressiveness thrill me I want her to learn this helplessness. Finally she relents, leaving off of struggling and closing her mouth with a confused, sad expression...until I bring my hand near again, drawing another quickly-truncated attempt to devour it followed quickly by a look of recognition: she’s understood, and when I slowly bring my hand to her lips the third time, she simply opens them, head supple in my hand, breath ragged, expression complex and intense with lust, surrender, love, and desperate, pounding need.

“MMmmmfffff...”

The exhalation through her nose as she closes around my thumb sounds almost orgasmic, and it clearly feels nearly so, the way she writhes in her bondage as she licks it clean. All control dissolves when the come actually touches her tongue, overwhelming, but she’s a good girl as I present each finger, waiting patiently for me to place it in her mouth and begin to rub my load onto her softly-presented tongue or lip before closing around me and letting go, cooing surprisingly loudly for someone with a full mouth.

Heavy drips hang off my palm when she’s done with my pinky, and she’s breathing fast and hard as if we’ve been fucking or I’ve been going down on her, so by way of reward I let her horn free, expecting her to pounce on the taste that clearly drives her so wild, but she doesn’t, instead looking at my palm, and then me, questioning, steeling herself against her need, and so I respond by miming reaching out and licking with my own tongue and she’s licking hungrily before I’ve even had time to close my mouth, cooing breathily, and her sounds become more urgent, her licking quicker, her breath more intense, as she drinks down my come, and then I turn my hand to let her have the thick layer that clings to the back of it and she slurps this down too with one mighty lick and as she swallows suddenly bucks in the restraint and cries out and sudden empathy as I understand _what_ is happening if not _how_ sends my other hand between her legs to caress and cup her cunt, to work her clit gently and carefully, watching for the sensitivity to set in. 

Her orgasm goes on and on, renewed every time it slackens when she collects herself to get another tongueful of come from my hand, as if she’s coming from the taste, an idea that makes me feel strange inside, proud and embarrassed at once...and then the last of it is gone and I’m kissing her despite the fact that she tastes of my come although this is quickly washed away by the sea of nectar she’s making for me to drink hungrily in return, and am driving my still-hard cock into her cunt and she’s arching against me as I clutch her hips to mine by a hand on her ass and she surrenders to this too, kissing back passionately, but supplely, opening to me and following my lead more than trying to devour. She’s slack in the restraint, now, hanging comfortably, allowing herself to be fucked, taken, looking at me dreamily when I break the kiss, lips open as she coos out the pleasure of being penetrated. 

There’s one last orgasm left in me, one last load, but it’s resisting, making me work to bring it out. I cup pet’s face for a moment, kiss her briefly and sweetly, and then reach down to free her legs so that she swings from her arms, held open by my hips between hers, impaled, and then taking her by the hips with both hands, wrap her legs around me - she clings, once I’ve placed them, and squeezes with her thighs - and pound her until neither of us can see straight, panting, crying out loud a sound I’m not sure is entirely my own as we sound out the feeling of my come and energy pumping into her, of her drinking me down, happily force-fed.

There’s something different in the way she clings to me after we recover ourselves enough for me to free her arms, something new in the way she looks at me for a moment, panting hard, the sensation of my cock still impaling her obvious in her expression as her breath moves her against it. She’s passive again, when I kiss her, though somehow no less passionate.

Finally, I draw myself a soft wall of whatever this magical force is and lean against it, resting, still coupled, unwilling to separate us even though we’re both spent: the way her head is buried in my shoulder, the way she clings, the way I feel: we need a sense of connection right now that goes beyond embracing, and without words there’s only this. Even so:

“I love you. You are a very, very good girl.”

Purrrrrrr...kiss...

We’re not alone, have not been alone: we’re sharing the bridge or bed now with a girl with electric-blue skin and elf ears long enough to be visible from this distance who follows her lover or owner, a heavily-built masculine dressed in what looks like a kilt made from lengths of iron chain, a few feet behind, confusing me at their lack of falling until I see the glint of the leash connecting them. 

Others - a tall woman and short girl walking arm-in-arm, awkward but happy - approach in the opposite direction, driving home as they approach and neither stare nor avert their eyes from our nakedness the fact that my towel is thoroughly gone and I’m leaning in silent union with my demon lover for all to see.

None of these, however, are the spectator we had before. What become of them?

More importantly, if pet was the spread-eagled succubus I saw, and not the statue, where next? I’d failed to really look at the image of the king, as well: inspecting it now, still burning in my mind’s eye, I see that the person I’d interpreted as the king from the gates in another guise in fact has my own face, but my own face if I were the male lead in a redikomi manga, chiseled perfection with eyes full of Depth and Complexity and Mystery.

What do I make of _that_? He holds a lantern aloft, and something glows in it: the lantern is a cage containing a tiny winged form shining bright with purplish light, the implication obvious enough, but still no less enlightening.

There is only one other detail: the staff in his other hand, bracing him against an unseen footing.

Pet shifts in my arms, cooing, changing her grip to hold on more effectively, shifting her hips comfortably against my hardness.

Not a challenge, not a riddle. The images have been as literal as the rocks could make them up to this point, so what does this mean? What’s a guy with a lantern held high doing? Looking for something?

Oh. Of course. I’ve got a little purple star and after what we’ve just done I think she sort of is in a cage...and she’s still full of magic scrying stones. She’ll be able to light my way, but now I have to go looking. We must be close, this was the last image before the number that can only be my room number.

As for the staff...well. I’m about as long as that now, and lots thicker, and if this place gave me a vision that _didn’t_ include a dick joke I’d have to seriously doubt where I was.

I stroke pet’s cheek, slow and tender, and, looking into her eyes, withdraw myself - drawing a shudder from us both - and shift her weightless body to my hip.

Five statues surround us, massive effigies reaching out equidistant from each other and us: we’re standing in the center of a massive pentagram with one set of lovers representing each element, the lines implied rather than drawn on anything, but apparently no less powerful. I set out for the tentacled pair who pour water: we’ll look there first, because I liked them the best, and that’s actually likely to mean something here.

Cool air and strangers’ eyes on my cock as we depart make me realize I’m still rock-hard, head bare and vulnerable (it feels desperately sensitive in the breeze). Pet’s tail looped around my hand is soft against my shaft as I work the foreskin back into place from where it’s been piled up behind the ridge, gasping and shuddering at the sensation with a pleasure my pet drinks hungrily. There’s a drop of come at my tip when I’m done that I collect and bring to pet’s lips where it’s devoured with a breathy coo, the hard curve of a fang contrasting the total warmth and softness of her lips and tongue on my fingers.


	18. Awesome Orgy Things

Coming through the mouth of the tentacled lovers brings us into another tunnel through a ridge of black sliver-stone. I wonder, as we step onto the curve of the statue’s stone lip, if pet’s weight will return, but it does, slowly fading back as if I’m untangling her from something by walking.

My feet splash in the water that fills her mouth as we enter, and it’s warm, bathwater warm, inviting us to the pools I can hear nearby beneath her tongue, but as much as I’d like the bath curiosity for home drives me on instead.

Going deeper, it’s dark within, nearly pitch black, and filled with the sound the water that flows around my feet, less than an inch shallow here but deepening as we proceed. For a few feet, fragments of reflection from the sky outside gleam on the curves of shiny stone that make up the statue’s tongue and lips and teeth and then we’re beyond that and in total blackness...no. Pet’s stars are shining, barely visible in the darkness, making strange, suggestive reflections in the curving, shiny stonework that makes up this place, making it seem as if by looking we could fall into the water beneath my feet and find ourselves in a sex fantasy even more lurid and strange than this one.

“Mew? Whee!”

Pulling pet from my side, I raise her high, holding her by the waist, and either the quickness of the motion or remembering the moment on the ship makes her spread her wings wide to reveal her nebulae that seem to become brilliant as my eyes adjust. It’s still only a little light, but somehow that’s right, as if any light here is improper, as if this place were meant to be felt rather than seen. 

The passage continues on, bending down (up? The direction of the ‘sky’) into the mountainside, and pet’s glow lets me see that that water springs from crevices in the stone, places where curves come together, running down or along the walls following some gravity other than ours. It stays high and wide at least for a space - we’re not simply in a representation of the statue’s insides, though the shapes are organic and soft in that way - curving on into blackness beyond the reach of my toy’s glow.

“Mew?”

Pet looks around, then down at me, curious, expectant. I set her to her feet, finally letting her tail go - she raises the bright-seeming barb high - to fuzz her hair and take her hand and head further down the statue’s throat.

Purrpurrpurrr...

I find myself thinking about the couple with the leash, how right it would feel to have this sweet little spirit of lust on the end of a leash instead of holding my hand. Or maybe both...no. If she were leashed, I could bind her hands again, maybe behind her back this time so it arched her spine and thrust out her breasts...

A warm weight against my side breaks my reverie: pet, snuggling, sniffing deeply.

“Do my wicked thoughts taste good?”

“Mew.”

...thrust out her breasts and leave her helpless and vulnerable. I do, I find, muchly want to tie her up, but the cuffs she wears seem somehow not equal to the task, and I find myself wishing both for rope and the skill to use it...

It’s like cravings shine brighter in this darkness. An image from before, my hand against pet’s lips as she licks it clean, haunts me, and turning I take her by the neck to hold her before me. Could I lift her without injuring her? I’ll have to ask when her voice returns. A gentle squeeze parts her lips, and I lean in to kiss them, slowly, working them over tenderly, making them slick with my...nectar...

“Mmmf, coo...”

Held so, she’s passive, responds to the kiss submissively, perhaps remembering my lesson from before, and the surrender makes me...want something. Breaking the kiss but still holding her in place by the neck, I take her hand with my free one, and bring it between her legs to run down over her still-slick mound and into the folds of her cunt where our intertwined fingers play for a moment before I unravel my hand from hers and, with a last moving pressure of her fingers against her lips and clit - the latter of which turns her barely-audible moaning at the touch into a lustful squeak, just for a moment - withdraw it to return my attention to her face.

She gets the point, masturbating happily. When her eyes begin to close with the pleasure a quirk of my eyebrows is all it takes to make her fight them open again, looking at me hungrily as she touches herself, still seeming oddly surprised at the intensity of it. Parted lips, soft and wet. I caress them with my thumb, palm laid against her cheek, pulling her lower lip away to reveal her teeth, and she moans for the attention, working with my thumb to make her expression an image of feral, kiss-me-fuck-me lust and submission. Her mouth closes around me when I reach the thumb inside, warm and wet and slick with its newly cunt-like nectar, sucking happily. I let her linger, enjoying this for a moment, exploring the loving softness that embraces my thumb, and then shift my grip to pull her mouth open, tongue held softly down by my penetrating digit, helpless, and her weight shifts in my grip, surrendering, giving me the angle I request.

Her upper lip is impossibly soft and smooth when I take it between my own and explore it with my tongue, like a memory of those of her cunt, and her teeth are - of course - other than the fangs, round and blunt when I finally explore them in detail: this mouth isn’t made for the same kind of food mine is.

“Oooooh...ngh...”

Her tongue grows wetter against my thumb as we kiss, and she’s starting to breathe and moan more rhythmically, urgently, but now her eyes fix me with an intensity of hunger instead of closing: she’s lost in the pleasure of her own cunt, but only because I’m here to look at. I can feel it, with her, already debating with myself whether to have her ass, cunt, or mouth: we’ve left the magic that suspended us above the abyss, but it lingers here, as if to remind us we have to be immortal because that’s the only way we’ll ever get enough of each other. 

The smell of her nectar is always in my nose, but it’s growing stronger with her lust, and soon I withdraw my thumb, licking it clean, enjoyment naked on my face. Below her heaving breasts pushed together and out into mighty cleavage by her arms reaching between her legs, nipples erect and seeming to gleam in the dim, at the bottom of gently moving hips, she penetrates herself with one hand while working her lips and clit with the other, rhythmic now, purposeful, but her breath still hitches, fighting with itself, when I take one breast in my hand, squeezing to feel the flesh push between my splayed-out fingers, sliding my palm over the hard, hot nipple, pressing gently to push more of the softness between my fingers like it’s a bowl of milk I can sink my hand into, steadying her with my grip on her neck - something I’d never try with a human but that seems so right for her - so that the force of it doesn’t push her away.

She moans full-voiced at the intensity, mouth open wide and breath confused with the orgasm she’s working on, and I can feel a wicked smile curl my lips as she looks at me out of softly surrendering half-mast eyes.

“That’s a good girl. Now come for me.”

“Mmm...ooh...mew...”

The question fleets through my mind, asked and arousing before I can stop it in horror: if this continued, could I train her to understand that command the way one does with an animal, make her respond to those words by instinct, or would the stones’ magic prevent that?

Purrr...mmm...nn...mmf...ooh...

Come for me while you suck me off. Can I go again? Gentle downward pressure at pet’s neck brings her to her knees, unsteadily as she’s unwilling (or too obedient) to stop touching herself as she kneels, balancing herself on wide-set legs as I shift my grip from neck to horn, forcing her to look up at me. Her eyes close, just for a moment, when I lay my still-hard shaft, still glistening with nectar, against her cheek, and she squeaks out a tiny, pleading sound of lust, so I drag it back toward her lips, pulling her head along the slippery length of it as I press it into her soft, soft cheek with my other hand, and then finally pull her mouth open with the thumb that penetrated it before.

She’s wholly passive as I slide in, mouth opening without resistance, tasting me with a soft, slick tongue that meets me but yields like the inside of her cunt, eyes dutifully and lovingly pinned to mine as I take her. She shifts, rising and arching her back a bit to straighten her throat as I penetrate, ragged exhalation from her nose hot on my shaft as it moves into her. There’s again the bit of resistance at the back of her throat and again her coo of relish as I push into this opposite of a gag reflex, silenced by my cock sealing off her airway to leave only the occasional slippery sounds of fingers in her cunt. Her eyes follow me all the way, closing only when her hair brushes my mound and she can see only the flesh above my cock: I feel their impossible lashes brush the newly-bare, preternaturally sensitive skin there, stroking downward, and then her lips are clamped against the join of shaft to mound, tongue and throat closed around me, still but for the tiny motions transmitted from her cunt.

Incredibly, she’s even managed to still her throat from swallowing, though I fancy I can feel the discipline this requires, like the force of will I saw on her face before, determined to follow my command and be fed rather than devour.

She’s determined so, again, waiting, patient, for whatever I’ll do with her, still touching herself. Making solid my hold on her horn, I stroke her hair and draw her back so that my head rests in her mouth again, cradled in soft, encircling tongue as her eyes meet mine again, just for a moment before I slide her back onto me and start fucking properly, sighing at her mouth’s caress as I penetrate.

Every stroke pushes a cooing gasp from her as it penetrates, lets her meet my gaze as it withdraws before lowering her eyes again. She holds her tail high, curved in a half-question-mark, oddly still for her...oh. I can see the tension in her body, too, hear it in her squeaks - the discipline not to swallow when I force so deeply down her throat really is overwhelming, and getting worse, and...I’m...oh my god...

Reflex drives me to pull her down to my mound when the orgasm first takes me, but after a moment I manage to collect myself enough to think of something either wicked, kind, or both, and withdraw so that I’m coming into her mouth instead of down her throat. She doesn’t disappoint, wrapping her tongue around my head with impossible-seeming completeness to cradle me as I burst, cooing breathily with each burst of come she tastes, but not swallowing. Our eyes meet, when mine can focus enough to pin hers, and she watches me come with a tense, determined desperation, holding still in obedience to my lesson with the handful of come above the abyss, but fairly vibrating with the tension of holding her mouth full of this taste that so obviously drives her wild with hunger while needing to let go enough to come herself...

Please, oh please, those eyes seem to say, as I throb in her mouth, and when I come to myself enough to really look into them again I fix them with what I hope is a kindly smile and, withdrawing until only my very tip rests against her lips, reach beneath her chin and run my fingers gently down the outside of her throat.

Gulp... “Mmmmfff, mmmm!”

She understands instantly, or perhaps this attention breaks her resolve, and she explodes with the released tension, swallowing me with one mighty gulp, body relaxing suddenly only to immediately arch with the force of her pent-up orgasm, and whether it’s her sudden hunger or an impulse of kindness in me or just a wish to be inside her as she feels this I drive my shaft back down her throat on the heels of the load she’s just swallowed and then gasp myself as her caressing tongue and the feeling of pushing into her soft, swallowing throat force from me an aftershock, renewing my orgasm for a few moments so that we can pant together in climax, her face held against my mound now by both my hands, one gripping a horn while the other caresses her hair. It feels like something’s breaking open or being stripped freeingly bare inside me, inside both of us, as she sucks the come out of me, as I force it into her, as we finally, finally fill or at least temporarily slake the gnawing hunger for each other crossing the abyss has revealed in us. 

When I finally subside and withdraw, trembling as I pass her lips and she licks away the lingering drop at my tip:

“Good, good girl.”

Her eyes meet mine when I speak, then lower momentarily in submission, seeming to say, ‘yours’, and she smiles nakedly.

Purrr...mmf...

There’s a trembling, gentle motion in her body: she’s still touching herself, obedient even through the moment of sensitivity that follows orgasm. Sinking half to one knee, I pull her hands away from her cunt and find them dripping with nectar, gleaming in the darkness. Between her opened legs, her thighs shine, nectary, at the tops with the reflection of each other’s stars. 

I have an odd impulse to tenderly clean her up, but there’s nothing to do it with, so instead I pull us to our feet and lick her hands clean of nectar, savoring the way it restores strength and lust, and the effect my tongue among her fingers has on her expression.

Her stars are glowing noticeably brighter, when I finish this last ministration, than when we entered this place, and it’s enough to give vague shape to the darkness, even lighting up a bit of the steam that rises off the warm water flowing around our feet and pooling here and there. They glint off her metallic hair where a lock hangs by her cheek, and I have to caress there, hooking the hair behind her pointed ear, and then one or the other of us - it must be me, she held perfectly still at the touch other than to submit to the caress with relish - has decided we needed to be embracing and I gasp, involuntary, with the sudden sensation of my still-slick cock sliding up her navel, pressing into it as we come together, and then she’s wrapped around me, purring, tail wound up my arm, raising a thigh just fractionally to nestle mine slickly between hers, purring deeply as I caress her wild silver hair, as I reach down to rest my other hand against her ass claimingly.

“I love you, little pet. You’re such a good girl.”

Purrrrrr....

Pet’s breathing, moving her midriff against me, and the vibration of her purring, settle in my still-solid shaft, fanning up just a bit that flame of lust that never quite goes out. We could never leave this place. We could never end this scene, just fuck again and again for the rest of time, right here, playing forever - maybe what she said about limits due to blood flow will turn out true, but if so those will be the times I bury my face between her legs and drink - _and that would be just fine_.

We wouldn’t even, I think, be alone - I fancy I can hear sounds of lust in among the running water, if I listen carefully. 

"You’re mine, pet. You belong to me. You’re mine and I promise never to let you go.”

You took control! You took control and then you kept taking, you didn’t just stop with what I was offering, omigod so hot, c’mon, take some more, umum...

Wait, words, these are words, what...OOH “NF OOH FFUU...”

The sound isn’t pain _exactly_ , but it’s sudden and surprised and accompanied by a quailing weakness and has no reason that I can see and I’m feeling particularly responsible for her at the moment, so I stand her on her feet and hold her up with hands beneath her armpits (thus burying my wrists in the soft warmth of her breasts), and blurt out:

“What is it? Are you okay?”

“Stones, again, moving...ooooh oh FUCK...”

“You can talk again?”

“...nnff...you...you took control, you said I’m yours, you’re really owning it, taking me for your own...the stones will let me talk as long as you’re in control...”

Gasp fuck ooh...

Tearing something open, inside us. Why now? I’d think I’d been considering her mine at least since the raft...and yet, had I said it? To her? Not until now.

“What’s happening to you now? What are the rocks doing?”

“Waiting...ooh...for you. Home’s close, you have to go find it, or tell them you want something else from them. These are...nf...stupid...powerful...they’ll turn me all the way into a doll if you let control of me go again.”

“Turn you into a doll?”

“Not literally, but...can’t move. Still be alive and feel...everything. It’s a...nf...”

“The water’s warm. Kneel by my feet and tell me about this.”

Ooof thank you. Down. Whew.

“It’s a cheat for teaching new doms. I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have used these if I’d known what they...were...nf...”

It’s as if I can see the bonds tighten on her as I settle into just listening, until she’s fighting desperately for each word.

Control. The lust of it, the hunger we’ve finally opened fully, still burns in me, and I think I can guess what the nature of the cheat will turn out to be.

I sink again half to one knee, wind one hand into her hair while the other clutches a breast, and kiss her, squeezing harder and harder until she squeaks into the kiss...

Mmmf, oh fuck, so strong, nnn yeah make me feel how strong...ooh...

...and then, releasing her from the kiss and fondling, run my thumb over her soft lips, still wet and slippery with the same thick nectar as her cunt makes, and pull her mouth open again, holding it wide with her jaw in my grip and tongue soft just behind my thumb. It looks like a shiny black piece of candy in her mouth, and following an impulse that almost escapes my notice, I reach inside and take it gently between my thumb and forefinger to draw it out between her teeth, surprised and then unsurprised at the length of it.

She exhales, cooing fractionally, at this attention, eyes narrowed in a mixture of pleasure and humiliation.

“Just answer my questions, and remember the tongue you’re using to do it doesn’t belong to you.”

I release her, standing again over her.

Ooh fuck that’s hot. 

Deep breath. Wait for Master.

“What are the rocks? Do you know?”

Nod nod.

“They’re...”

Whoah, that’s easy! I forgot talking shouldn’t be a fight, jeez...

“They’re scrying stones, but they’ve got a control-sink blessing on them and it’s _fucking_ strong.”

Nf. Um. Guess I’m done talking.

“What’s a control-sink blessing?”

“Thing I read about but never tried before. I was saying, it’s a cheat for new doms, keep them from forgetting who’s holding the leash. Or sometimes people use ‘em to help switch roles in a relationship. ‘s like, once you take a piece of control from me, it’s not buried in my soul anymore, so either you have it, like you do now with my voice, or I take it back because it feels weird to have pieces of your soul hanging off like that...except, with the stones in me I _can’t_ get it back, because they take it instead.”

I’m s...nf! But, I’m sorry! I didn’t wanna cheat into being us, I know you can do it without help! I wanna...I wanna tell...you...

She sounds like herself again, though soft and cooing with the afterglow I feel just as strongly.

“And now they’ll turn you into a doll, because I’ve taken control of your body. Right?”

Nod nod.

I have control, and I can’t resist using it.

“Put your legs apart more. More, let me see your pussy.”

Open. Ooh, the water’s just barely lapping at me...OOH HOLY FUCK I SWEAR EVEN YOUR FINGERS ARE BIGGER UNGH

She submits to my penetrating fingers when I crouch one-kneed again, reaching between her thighs, as supple and receptive and eager as before...

Oooh...mmm...

Her voice is husky, cooing with the sensation of my finger inside, and I can’t help but enjoy the moment. I fancy I can _taste_ her desire to seize my wrist and pull me deeper inside.

I shift, reaching deep and curling my fingers, seeking and then finding the little nodule of flesh between her pubic bone and wall of her cunt, and she sways on her knees, gasping suddenly, when I press at it.

“ _Can_ you move? If I don’t order you?”

“It’s about...mm...you. Can disobey, but if...you don’t do something...mmf...oh Master....if you don’t do something about it, turn into a doll...”

“Even if you’re disobeying to keep yourself safe?”

“Doesn’t...ooh...matterrrr...why...ooh...same if you...forget...about me...gonna have to be extra careful.”

Placing my free hand against her cheek:

“I will, I promise. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Thanks...Master...oooh...”

Oh fuck fingers so big, yummm...

She’s swaying more, relishing the attention but increasingly unsteady, so I shift the hand from her face to support her under the armpit, pressing her breast pleasantly into my wrist as work her cunt.

“Am I making you need to come, little pet?”

Oooh...

Shake shake, all slow, can’t move fast right now. “Just love...to get fucked...Masterrr...ooh...”

UNH!

With a last powerful squeeze that presses a surprised exclamation out of her and makes her fall against my supporting hand for a moment, I withdraw my fingers, forced to submerge my hand coming out of her, and yet it’s still covered in nectar and a thick string still stretches out as I pull it away to bring to my mouth and lick clean.

Nectar is waterproof, that’s going to come in handy.

She sways a bit, still panting lightly from the fingering, when I release her and stand over her.

“Hands.” I hold mine down and out for her to grasp.

My soft little hands in your big strong ones, you could crush me like dried out cum but you’re so gentle...

“Up.”

Pulled up. Now what, Mast—MMF! Mmm...

Fuck, your thigh between my legs, so close to my cunt...oh please...

I attack her with a kiss as soon as her face is near enough and she’s passive again for a moment, first with surprise and then with submission, but seems to understand after a moment that I want to be kissed back and begins to let her usual hunger show when I get hold of her tongue with my lips and draw it into my own mouth. Someone masculine - me, I think - moans when she nibbles my lips in response, and I let this go on a long moment, open with my appreciation, before I break the kiss, leaving her open-mouthed and hopeful.

“Mmmm...”

“Every bit of you is all mine, and you love it.”

Oh god, the way you look at me when you say that, like I’m made of nectar and you can see every drop of me...

...see every drop of me, and wanna drink me all up...

She looks about to respond with words, but her cunt beats her to it, leaking a hot drop of nectar onto my thigh.

“You love it so much you’re dripping on me.”

FUCK BLUSH BLUSH FUCK omigod...

She shrinks into herself, embarrassed, struggling between meeting my gaze and avoiding it, so I crook a finger under her chin to make her look at me, and with my other hand collect the drop from my thigh and suck it off my finger with dramatic relish while pet watches.

“Never be ashamed of getting wet for me, pet. Your drippy lust is exactly what I wanted.”

“I know, Master. Just feel so...naked...”

Why is this so different than the gates?

Well. This is me, naked and controlled, not a dismissal forcing me open, and it’s not going away how much I love this.

“It’s beautiful. I love you.”

Love—nf. Right.

Purrr yes that’s right fuck it _purrrr_ it feels good. Doe eyes, love you too, Master.

I release her chin, gripping her gently by the upper arm instead, and give her another kiss, less lingering and more passionate.

She’s talking to me, and making sense, but there’s something loopy or soft in her way, as if being controlled really does make her soul bare in some deep sense. It’s thrilling, like the emotional equivalent of looking at her naked body.

And it makes me want to touch, explore, enjoy, to _own_ , just as much.

_And_ now I finally understand what I read about not asking a sub if she’s okay in this kind of situation. How is she doing right now? She’s doing what I say, and it feels good, and she loves me, and that’s the very comfortable and happy extent of her universe. She has no idea about anything beyond that, and even if she could step back and give me an evaluation of her state right now I wouldn’t want her to because the idea that resting in my grip so peacefully feels good to her thrills me to the core.

Glowing. How does my mark on her look? I turn her to face away from me, gently, and run my hand over the dimly glowing lines, savoring the way the attention hitches her breathing. Even her tail is in a submissive mood, holding itself up out of the way instead of ensnaring my nearest available limb.

“Do you like wearing my mark on your ass?”

That question doesn’t, I think, let her out of my grip at all.

“It’s not _my_ ass, Master. Ooh!”

“Good girl.”

I tighten my grip, squeezing with spread fingers, balancing her (she’s supple on her feet, and would, I fancy, let me push her off them without resistance) with my hand still on her arm.

“But I asked you a question.”

I squeeze a little harder, shifting so that the tip of my middle finger just spreads the outside of her asshole.

Oooh! “Yes Master. Feel owned. Yours.”

Leaning myself close over her to whisper it in her ear: “Good, because once you start being mine, there’s no way to stop.”

Purrr.

We’re standing, have been playing, at the back of the great statue’s throat. Pet’s brighter stars now outline just enough of the rocks to make me understand that we’ve bent around another gravity-gradient: the water flows gently past our feet toward the mouth, but does so over a wide curve so that we’re behind the back of the statue’s tongue, all light from the abyss outside thus blocked, but ‘down’ for us faces the surface of the tongue where it joins the throat. Further down, I get an impression from the shapes of the rocks that they’re not just a representation of someone’s insides, or that if they are it’s the inside of someone’s very horny subconscious that’s being represented by way of more statuary, or maybe just suggestive shapes - it’s hard to make out from the outlines and glints pet’s light picks out.

Taking her horn and stepping beside her, I turn her head to look at me, gazing for a moment into her softly present eyes that seem neither expectant nor resistant but just _here_ , and then release this and take her hand, again wishing (I think not alone) for a leash.

Let us descend. Home’s not going to be in a shallow place.

We’re going? Okay. Ooh, it’s kinda slippery.

I almost fall and take pet with me rounding the gravity-change as we fall properly down the statue’s throat. As it is, the way the gravity shifts under the surface of the rocks to create a steep slope for a few feet of wet, slippery floor makes me reasonably sure it’d be impossible to return the way we came.

We’ve been swallowed. I can’t help adding mentally that I do appear to be able to make enough come to satisfy someone this size, now.

Pet looks around, curious, following my gaze as I try to understand this place.

All of the rocks here are shiny and slick, in or out of the water, and they reflect pet’s stars and pet’s stars’ glow on me in strange, lurid shapes that keep seeming almost to form into images beyond our distorted reflections.

“Have you been here before?”

“No. ‘s new.”

I want to ask if she remembers or understood the place outside, but I’m not sure she could answer right now - she was able to talk about the stones, but that was before I played with her in such a control-taking way.

I’m sure of it now - pet’s reflected lights are forming into images of their own that are neither our own reflection nor an outlining of the statuary. In the curve of the breast of a huge feminine figure whose face is caught in what must be the moment of deepest penetration (her arms trail across the passage, dipping into the water so that it rushes where her wrists are just beneath the surface) to clutch a curve of stone that her fingers dig into as if she’s gripping someone’s flesh like a bedsheet, but we can see only her head and shoulders and breasts pressed against the ‘floor’ because she’s being fucked doggy-style and the rest is out of sight above the cavern’s roof), I see...

I’ve stopped walking, and pet comes near. She obediently just keeps holding my hand, but I can almost feel her wish to cling to me.

Pretty statue, but why are we stop...oh. Whoah.

Pet looks, curious at the statue, then startles, restoring what shreds of sanity remain to me: it’s not my imagination coming fully unglued if she sees it too.

“What do you see?”

“All the rocks, black mirrors. You’re the Hermit, except instead of a star I’m your lantern, all caged up and safe.”

Purr to that thought. I hope Master has a cage for me at home.

He could have been a hermit, and it makes sense with what’s happening now, but that’s not the image I see picked out in fragments and shades of pet’s dim purple glow that seems to gleam brighter and brighter as my eyes adjust to the otherwise-absolute darkness.

The image in front of me is a feminine succubus - not my pet, though like her, demonic with horns and dark wings - standing, pouring water carefully from one cup to another. She’s naked, and tormented by nipple clamps, one attached to each cup by a heavy chain, while between her legs someone feminine, bound kneeling and helpless, presses their face into her cunt. Her lips are open with the pleasure and intensity of her sensations, but her face is serene and not a drop of water is going astray. The image is caught in a moment of time, but seems to shift like a hologram when we move, the streaks and fragments of purple light that make it up flowing and rearranging without changing what they portray. 

Reflected in the other breast is the king from the gates, sitting upright on a throne decorated with horned animal skulls at the ‘shoulders’ and usefully-phallic-looking tips on the armrests, with a gaggle of feminine slaves kneeling or sitting at his feet, all notably long haired and of my preferred soft-and-curvy body type. His (nearly as massive as my new one) cock is out and in his hand and one slave, winged, horned, and tailed like my pet, kneels up, facing him, arms bound behind her back, as if caught in the moment of crawling up to service it.

“Why would we see different things?”

I know better by now than to ask how it’s possible.

“Vision’s for you, not me. I just see our reflection. OOHF okay stones say don’t tell me what you see or they’ll doll me. This has to be all you, not my scene. Can’t even give you reactions or explanations.”

Our reflection, us being that last image in the vision. The statues are reflecting...metaphors? Something like metaphors?

Because it’s not just the one statue, every reflection has an image...no. As many of the reflections are simple optical distortions of my pet’s stars and her light shining on me as are magical projections. The ones that are projections, though, seem to drip meaning, as from some particularly pointed dream:

Gleaming off the fucked statue’s forehead, an upside-down image of a masculine human and feminine succubus facing each other, holding cups, the human reaching out with his free hand to touch the hands of the succubus who’s small and must clutch the cup in both hands.

Wavering in a pool on the ‘ceiling’ above this, I look down past a smiling feminine incarnation of Sade who watches a human and succubus (again, the primate male and the demon female) who fuck face-to-face, embracing, femme’s long hair wrapped around the human’s fist, eyes and mouths wide with passion. Her legs are wrapped around him, clinging, and he braces her against Sade’s massive supporting hands for leverage.

A bearded figure (face familiar) watches through a doorway as one feminine succubus binds another with leather to one of the star-frames I first saw in the Stained Hall, while two more very fuckable-looking femmes kneel at his feet, looking at him hopefully. 

A male human, cock in hand but face bored, leans against the foot of some massive statue, watching a trio of feminine people make out while a fourth, hotter than the first three combined, stands ignored to the side, presenting a breast with one hand and holding out a fat drop of nectar with the other.

Another image, the same male human who almost certainly is meant to be me (after the wild variety of the people and statuary here, it’s not lost on me that I’m the only male character in these images, and that all the others are long-haired, naked females with my preferred soft-and-curvy body type), pleasures two femmes that stand before him, one with each hand, while the two twist toward each other to kiss and embrace.

Hehe, can tell which ones Master likes better.

I should like the pair making such passionate love, relationship supported by their kinks, but that’s not the image that draws me. Failing that, don’t I want to be the King? Or the center of a well-balanced threesome?

But it’s the first image that draws me, because I realize as I find myself revelling in the helplessness displayed there that there’s a third character in that image, unseen because they’re behind the camera: me. Pet balances beside me, ready with (to judge by her smell) cunt pounding, given, a toy in my hand, and that same force that holds her so peaceful when I’ve seen the abandon she’s capable of seems to me to extend into the picture so that it’s not _self_ -control that’s keeping the succubus in the image steady through such exquisite torture.

How this points the way home, I don’t know, but I do know that my home isn’t going to be _away_ from this image.

Whoah, that’s tasty, wonder what he sees there?

Ooop, so does he, apparently. Coming, Master.

In the shifting lights as we step closer, I fancy I can see the standing one’s chest rise fractionally with a steadying breath, her brow furrow just a bit in concentration.

And, alongside the statue reflecting this, a narrow passage between the curve of the breast and supporting arm, a new image shining deep within.

Mmmm, breasts. Could get lost in these, literally...

It’s tight, just large enough for me to squeeze through by turning sideways and hugging the swell of the breast with pet trailing more easily behind.

The rocks are mirror-polished here, slick and cool against my body highlighting the parts of me that are still covered in pet’s nectar as they slide much more easily, and then we’re in a tight chamber formed by the coming-together of the curves of the statue’s breast, flank, and opposite those a curve that looks to be someone’s collarbone. A great hand grips the statue’s flank ‘below’ the breast, blocking the way further on. Gravity has twisted sideways as we’ve entered, so that we find ourselves sidling on our stomachs (pet careful, working around her obviously-sensitive breasts as they slide along the stone) against the statue’s breast and then having the space to turn just in time for the curve to become a slope toward an even smaller crevice between the hand and the opposite wall. Pet’s light reflects in all the rocks, making surreal patterns. There’s not room to see if they represent anything, except that the one reflecting within the further crevice seems coherent and is what I saw from outside.

I’m too big to reorient myself and see if it’s a dead end, but pet can, I think.

“Look down there, and tell me what you see.”

“Yes Master.”

Ooop, tight in here, guess I’ll just have to rub against you lots while I get down there.

She twists around, mostly atop me, leaving me with a close view (and scent, near her cunt the smell is overwhelming and seems to make something deep down inside me itch with hunger) of her silken, nectar-gleaming thighs and ass, my mark glowing on what from this angle is the crest of the curve, and, I fancy, everything within her outer lips luminous with just a hint of the same light. There’s just room to get a hand up and squeeze the cheek bearing my mark as she looks.

“There’s another, mmf! Image. And...oooh...space, ‘s small too. Keeps, mmm, going down, think we could crawl in. Aah!”

Okay, you can squeeze my whole cheek in your big strong hand, yes Master...

The punctuating squeeze brings her head around to look back at me with an odd sort of hungry expression, a wish worn nakedly without the initiative to ask for its fulfillment. There isn’t room to bend and kiss her cunt, but I can run the thumb that’s been molesting her ass along one outer lip, softening her expression and drawing out of her a quiet coo.

“Good girl.”

Purrr. Master...oh please...

Not about to let such nakedness go unrewarded, I slide my thumb slowly into her cunt, watching her face break open with lust as it penetrates.

Oooh fuck yes, fuck I could just be played with forever, that’s the point of me...oooh...Master...hell yes cock getting harder against my breast...c’mon, line us up and fuck my breasts, Master...

Her hips and body move gently with the penetration, seemingly completely instinctual, shifting the warmth of her breast where it pins my cock to my navel, pressing the ridge of the head into my belly button, and...we have to fuck again. 

“Push yourself back up along me.”

Up...oh, guiding hands on my hips, yes Master, we’re going, oooh, your mound feels amaaazing against my cheek...

Cock.

Want the cock OOOH FUCK “OOOH...”

Her sound of surprised ecstasy is musical and the combined taste of nectar and way her hips seem to nestle into my face as if her cunt is trying to kiss me back nearly make me forget I even have anything but a tongue that’s probing this wonderful slippery warm wetness until my cock starts to throb, pet’s face hot and soft against my mound and shaft.

Swallowing the mouthful of nectar, I pause to instruct her:

“Lick and kiss every bit of my mound you can get to. When you’re done, take my cock in your mouth and suck me off.”

Sluurp...ooh it’s so soft and smooth and makes you so lustful, yum...

“Oh my fuck...”

Her hot wet tongue seems to burn as it slides across my mound, as the need to get right up to the base of my shaft rubs her cheek against it, as the motion of her head strokes me with he hair that’s draped over my hips in this arrangement. The newness and intensity of the sensation - bared so, my mound seems to be almost as sensitive as my tip - set my heart pounding and I can tell that I’d have come instantly if we hadn’t just been having sex for somewhere between an hour and a week straight.

As it is, only the heady smell of her cunt all but touching my nose keeps me focused enough to remember how much I’ll enjoy burying my face there and running my tongue broadly across the entire landscape of engorging outer lips, blooming inner lips, entrance, and - to the glorious note of the coo that escapes her lips and tensing, arching response in her body - still-sensitive clit.

Oh my fuck, so intense, need to...ooh...mmf...

“Spread your legs more. Good girl. Hips up a bit.”

Yes Master. Spread. Up. Ohmyfuck...

She stops for a moment, gasping out a sweet little noise of lust, when I use this better access to get my mouth around her clit and suck on it and the top of her lips - surprised myself at how easily and far I can pull the soft, slippery flesh into my mouth - and press my face into her, exploring the depths of the folds around her clit with the tip of my tongue. 

I can feel the nectar flow free over my face as I start of eat her out in earnest, and she’s starting to tense and tremble as she does when needing to come. Despite herself, she whines with frustration when I pause to ask:

“Do you need to come, pet?”

Oh god, fuuuck yes need to cum oh please tell me to cum Master...

“Mmmf, mmmhmmmm...”

“I’ll tell you when.”

...okay...nnn, so intense...

Resolving to give her a good uninterrupted run now, I dive back in.

My lung capacity is far better than before I changed, but still finite, and after a while I have to pull into my mouth some of the nectar that’s covering my face to clear an airway—

The burning in my lungs subsides, my head clears (as much as it’s going to clear with a demon of lust licking my mound and shortly to suck me off), and I bury my face in her anew.

Nectar, if there’s enough, can replace _air_.

There’s just room to bring my free arm up around her leg and work it in between us so I can masturbate her. It’s a bit awkward, but the stimulation when she needs so badly to come gets me the flow of nectar I need to bury my face deep between her lips, drinking and exploring, pressing in to plunge my tongue deep inside her, rapt to the music of her moans growing pitifully desperate between the motions of her tongue against my mound...

Oooh fuck...all done. Okay, cock now, mmmmf, let’s lick up the shaft to get it in me, mm...ohGOD YUMMF—nf! Ngh, please...

She tries to start it as a proper blowjob, licking my shaft as tenderly as she’s done my mound, taking me in her hands and lowering her head onto me, fucking, tongue embracing, but she’s trembling, bucking against my embrace and caressing thumb, trying to wait for my order, but overwhelmed.

Still working her clit: “Take me all the way in. Suck me off with your throat.”

...o-okay...mmf, so good, ngh, must...ngh...

With a truncated gasp her throat closes around me, pulling, swallowing, as she lowers her head onto me, but her body arches, twisting, tail lashing against the ceiling above us with the tension, but, amazingly, she still doesn’t come.

_Not self control_ , the thought drifts back to mind.

I let her settle into this, and only give the order at the last moment I think my own voice will obey: “Come...for me, pet.”

ThankyouMasterohfuckthankyouthankyou

The faceful of cunt and her tongue’s exploration has brought me to the edge, and now my own orgasm rises slow, as the tension in my pet’s body releases, the moment between pounding readiness and bursting seeming long and lazy as if I’m letting her desperately hungry throat pull the pleasure out of me as the come throbs its way to my tip and then it’s filling her throat and I can feel her taste it, pressing her face down into me and sucking at my shaft, hungry. She really does seem to wring it out, somehow drawing the come out of me with her throat despite my being too deep for her to suck it in whatever would count as the normal way, swallowing hard and pulling rhythmically with the throbs of our orgasm and then when I seem to be subsiding she shifts something, sucks with a mighty pull, and I find myself riding another wave almost like a second orgasm directly on the heels of the first.

She presses down, face buried between my legs as she explodes, struggling desperately as if savoring the security of my grip for a moment before the orgasm - what her throat is doing to my cock leaves no question, she’s coming - fully takes her and makes her arch, cunt held firmly against my face by my encircling arm and hand on her ass so I can drink down the burst of nectar that squeezes out of her...

...ooooh fuck yes how much cum does Master _have_ unf...

When at glorious length it’s over, my cocks rests comfortably in pet’s embracing mouth, shifting gently and wetly as my panting breath raises and lowers her atop me.

I love you, Master. And your cock. Purrr...

“Good girl. Well sucked.”

Purrr...

“When you’re ready, turn back around and cuddle me.”

Mmmmmmfff, such a long cock, gotta really sit-oop. Okay, mmm...

In response, she withdraws me from her mouth, and when there’s not room to pull all the way off because of the low ceiling she slides up my body, instead, unintentionally but pleasantly giving me another faceful of pussy in the process, moaning and shuddering suddenly with post-orgasmic sensitivity when I kiss back.

“When am I ready, Master?”

Wait, liked having your cock in me. Mrr.

Spanks? No, nice, Master loves. Coo.

Smirking, I pat her ass affectionately.

“I’ll tell you, pet. Rest.”

...okay. Head down. Can see cock, cock is reflecting me because shiny. Looks yummy, wish Master would tell me to...something...

Her soft cheek contrasts the hard arch of her horn resting on my thigh, seeming weirdly smaller until I remember one more time how much larger I’ve become. My face and her crotch are soaked with nectar and she’s spilled no small amount from her mouth in the process of sucking me off, further wetting my mound, but by dint of nectar seeming never to dry out or become sticky this feels fine. I’m unexpectedly comfortable and sleep beckons powerfully as I realize we’ve probably been awake for the best part of two days, but I’m concerned to follow the path I can guess the magical reflections will continue to set while pet’s still glowing, so I let a few happy beats pass, long enough for our breathing to slow and synchronize so that pet’s warm exhalations on my shaft match mine between her legs, and then again pat the lines of my mark on her rear:

“Okay, turn.”

Oof, tricky, not much space...hehe, cock all slippery going boing past breasts, feels good...

Oh, coo, okay. Hehe, feels weird, Master has such a big tongue.

Her face glows both metaphorically and literally when it turns back to me, shining with spilled nectar I just have to lick away by taking a horn to let me turn her this way and that to give myself access. Done, I bring her gaze to mine and meet her luminous purple eyes: “I love you, pet.”

Puuurrrrrr. Lick lips, soft face, smile, see I love you too, Master. 

Oh kissing okay, yum, love you love you love you...

She just looks at me, doe-eyed, lips still soft, when I break the kiss.

“Do you remember what you saw, past here?”

“Yes.”

I talked? Oh, can’t nod, horn held.

“Do you think we can both fit?”

I’m a little unsure of both asking her this question and how her judgement will be, with her in this state, but there’s nothing for it.

“I can fit. Or you can fit.”

“So one at a time.”

“That. Yes.”

Grin?

Gravity bends around further as I slide out from under her and down through the gap, freakishly laying my legs against the curve of the fucked statue’s body while I’m still lying with pet’s weight pressed lovingly against me at a right angle to them. She watches me with a sort of sad “don’t go away” expression, so I comfort her with another kiss before my head is out of reach.

“It’s okay. You’re following me. I’ll tell you when.”

The new space is pitch black without her light to illuminate it, but that’s okay: _we_ are the things that go bump in the night here.

“Yes Master.”

But, don’t go away.

Uncomfortable to be separated from her myself, I keep a hand on her body, tracing down liquid-soft curves that press themselves against me as I shinny through the hole until I’m left crouching in the new space, one arm reaching back to grip pet by the ankle.

Without her scent so near, I can smell the perfume of the place, a heady chaos that must be the nectar of hundreds of succubi, threaded with the subtler notes of human lust: we’re not alone, although whoever is here is out of sight. The running-water sounds from above are muffled, and in the quiet I fancy I can hear people fucking in water.

“Oof!”

Pulled on. Okay, coming. 

Teetering on my feet, my hand tightens instinctually around her ankle: I’m slipping, falling...no. Gravity is _moving_ , slow, back and forth, like ocean waves stirring sand near the shoreline. My startled animal brain has thought at first that I’ve lost my footing, and then that the statue has come to life and begun to actually fuck, but the stillness of pet’s ankle in my hand, animated only by the life in her and her response to my sudden clutching, tells me neither of these can be true.

Each wave seems to loosen the statue’s hold, making my heart drop as gravity fails to fully return. Pet’s ankle moves in my grip, pushing toward me as she descends, and before I can get out the order to wait I’m dumbfounded as the combination of this and the latest wave lifts me free of the stone, carried like a fish in ocean waves. The space is tiny and I immediately and gently contact the opposite wall or floor or ceiling - the surface of the fucked statue’s lover’s body.

It’s terrifying at first, but safe: the motion is too slow to injure, and there’s no space through which to end up floating helplessly, and as pet clambers through the gap to join me I’m already reflecting that there would be a certain romance in making slow love floating here between the bodies of these giant lovers, carried by what must be the rhythm of their lust.

Master! Hehe, whee!

Pet floats free of the rocks much more quickly as she enters, and then we fall against each other, drawn, apparently, by gravity of our - no, gravity of my own, her hair dangles toward me as I embrace her, and it’s obvious as she shifts against me that her local ‘down’ is now just toward the center of my body and we can both feel her full weight pulling her there.

Stuck to Master. Wrapped up. Safe. Heaven. Purr...

“Hold on to me.”

Nod nod. Grabbed. Naked is good, like Master’s skin.

“Good girl. With your tail, too.”

What? Oh, hehe, tail understands, that feels good around your thigh like that, rubs when you walk.

It slides pleasantly and slickly against my cock as she ensnares me, bringing the soft barb to rest in the sensitive place where my thigh, mound, and flank come together, and I give it an affectionate caress, pressing her flesh into mine, before we go on.

“Oooh...”

Pet’s light reflects crazily from the rocks around us, making images broken by the closeness, and I try to steady us and take stock. We’re in a gap between the lovers’ bodies, a low space or narrow chasm - depending on gravity’s moment - created by their midriffs as they (surprisingly, from the arrangement above I’d assumed doggy-style) fuck face-to-face. There’s a gap behind us, dark, where we could pass around the hand and make our way further along the statue’s flank, and another at her other side, and in this gap just at the edge of sight I can see a slice of another magical image.

Onward.

Smells good in here, but feels weird, like, ooh...so much...

It’s not just a magical image, there’s light, flickering yellow like a candle flame, faint, just fragments that dance in the curves of the rock as I push us unsteadily along first one surface and then the other, following the image.

The wall of statuary beyond is largely back to a more human scale, another tangled three-dimensional orgy of effigies, shining in the darkness, reflections of the two dim point-sources of light making them all seem to move as if real, vertigo of the shifting gravity making the whole mass seem to move like ocean...waves...

“Holy fuck.”

What? Oh.

Whoah. That’s new.

Another liquid-explosion shape, like the sea, like the hall, waves and mountains and valleys, tendrils of the mass extending down to the surface we stand on giving for a moment a freakish impression of a dark forest while my brain tries to take in what I’m seeing.

They’re not statues, and they do move like ocean waves, and also like people fucking, because it’s a _literal_ tangled three-dimensional orgy, the living flesh-and-ichor counterpart of the stonework we’ve been walking through the whole time, participants of every possible size and shape and so many impossible ones, and there are tens of thousands, maybe millions, filling a huge space defined by statues like the one we stand on, far boundaries out of sight beyond the reach of either my pet’s stars or the candle flame.

Something inside me somersaults, confused, entranced, repulsed, enraptured.

The waves move with the gravity, or the gravity moves with the waves, or maybe there’s no difference, making me sway on my feet - without another statue above, I’m thankfully not lifted off them, but the force still has the overwhelming inexorability of ocean waves, and the smell and sounds of everyone’s lust are overpowering, inescapable and I can’t tell if this is suffocating or thrilling to realize that what I’d taken for more sounds of water - even people fucking in water - are the overlapped, muffled, collected moans and breaths of this multitude making love.

The sea of flesh must be hundreds of feet deep, people clinging, fucking, kissing whoever is near, all the bodies shining with nectar, here and there bathing in waves of it...

_Nectar can replace air_. Only those on the surface get to moan, and I get the impression only those on the surface care.

I didn’t care if _I_ could moan, just a few moments ago.

Master?

A wave falls near us and, more freakish, faces turn toward us, looking interestedly, hungrily. A pretty femme catches my eye and smiles, inviting, as she surfaces momentarily as if rising from water, expression blissful at what must be happening out of sight below her waist, and then the hands of her lovers reach out, pulling her down again, groping her and turning her to be kissed with a tender, proprietary entitlement I terrifyingly recognize as the way I’ve been touching my pet since the raft, the last thing visible on her face before it vanishes a mirror of the happy surrender on my pet’s face when I order her to service me.

When the gravity shifts and the wave retreats, the source of the candle-light is revealed: a few dozen yards away, a feminine form swaying like I do with the gravity waves and dressed in what may be the most clothing we’ve seen since passing the gates, an elaborate, sturdy-looking corseted dress, pale blue accents shining against the silky black fabric in the darkness. Looking at her, I can focus on her voice but not make out the words: she’s chanting something, repeated, trancelike, as she kneels, seeming to hammer at the surface of the statue as if carving something, and it comes to me that at some point pet’s nectar has erased the calluses from my feet and I can feel unevenness here in the statue’s surface beneath them: there are words carved, making branching, curling, intertwining trails, in the stone, and I can see that the graffiti continues on every surface of the space, fine bits of texture furring the reflections in the distance. 

“Pet. Read the words by our feet, if you can.”

Hm? Um. Words. Hard. So old.

“Ahk...thn...thenaeus of the Sade, Jeannune Chesi...no, Jeannune Jesae Charybdis of the Sade...umm...”

“It’s names.”

Nod nod.

“Meora...”

“That’s enough.”

She quiets, burrowing back into my shoulder where she rests, wrapped in one of my arms, although it’s the force of my gravity that holds her to me.

The carvings seem to be every age, some fresh and sharp, some worn smooth to near-invisibility by ages of...of...

Dizziness beyond the shifting gravity, as I start to understand and try to dodge the realization. The femme in the distance chips and chips - how long have I been watching her? - and then suddenly is finished, bringing the hammer down with a mighty blow to punctuate the ending and then she throws it and what must be her chisel aside, standing, and belts out a last repetition of the chant, loud enough to make pet flinch with surprise against me. In the same moment, the light shifts - it’s been coming from a candle she takes up as she stands, and is extinguished, blown out suddenly with a single final puff.

It’s only by a pixel that I keep enough sanity not to drop pet’s metaphorical leash.

“Translate. What did she just say?”

“All the slave of all. You are mine, I am yours.”

Romantic.

It’s pitch-black for an instant as my eyes readjust, and then by pet’s gloaming I can see what happens next while she translates:

She tosses aside the candle and raises her arms, taking a step toward the wave that’s been ebbing and flowing near her, bouncing high, swaying with gravity that flows in space but now does almost nothing to hold her to the ground. Hands extend for her, and when she takes one, dozens of others seize her body and limbs, lifting her, and then catch hold of the dress, pull, and all in one moment the thick sturdy fabric gives way and she lurches free as if shelled and more hands take her, caressing, tearing away underclothes and lingering shreds of fabric with an indifferent violence matched only by the love with which they then treat the flesh inside. A face rises from the crowd, lips parted to kiss her, the hands that grip her legs open them so another can bury itself there just as lovingly, and then she’s lost, submerged.

Only her name, carved in the rock, remains, and by the time it’s erased, she’ll have forgotten it anyway.

Gravity shifts, teetering under my feet, compounding my unsteadiness: pet’s weight is comforting against me, but doesn’t seem to contribute anything to my own far-too-light force against the rocks. A single breath could free me, and then a shift in the sound and breath of air on the back of my neck makes me look up to see another wave rising from above to within inches of my head. Hands caress ecstatic bodies, close enough to easily seize pet and I as they did their other new member, but none reach out though many faces regard us sidelong out of kisses or directly as they move from one lover to another. Another pretty feminine face catches my eye as she passes, and for an instant she rises and moves against the flow, holding steady, lips upside-down millimeters from my own, breath hot and sweet, tasting of ten thousand lovers, all of them beautiful. 

Then the flow takes her onward, and it comes to me that I’m panting, cock throbbing, might well have taken the kiss if she’d stayed.

Nothing makes sense. How can I be attracted to this? The room is full of lust, an emotional force that drips from the crowd just as surely as does the nectar they produce, but that’s not the force that’s nearly made me give myself here. That came entirely from within. Something thrilled in me, seeing the woman before broken open and taken, helpless, owned, before, and yet, and yet, and yet, the thought of joining this mass is suffocating, terrifying. I was happy just moments ago to be lost in pet’s cunt just as thoroughly, but that was somehow different, yet I can’t see how or why.

What would have happened, if I’d taken the kiss?

The wave retreats, another approaches. Don’t I want, they seem to ask, to forget everything, but this ecstasy?

Yet no hands reach for us. We have to give, freely, as did the other victim.

Pet shifts against me: she’s been watching the waves, but now finishes, nuzzling instead against my chest.

I want to turn and run, go back and find another appealing image, but there are words rattling through my head, inexplicable: the line from _Prince Caspian_ where Caspian explains after facing the enemy army despite being only a child that he realized that as terrified as he was if he ran from this first battle of his he’d run from every subsequent one as well and then when I accept _that_ everything _really_ turns sideways because I realize the line I _should_ be thinking of if I’m going to think about Narnia in the depths of Sade Hall is the bit from _Voyage of the Dawn Treader_ where they come upon the lost lord in the unnatural darkness and he tells them to run away because this is the island where dreams, no you don’t understand _dreams_ come true.

_Everyone here is someone’s fetish fuel, everyone here is someone’s nightmare fuel._

It was poetic sounding, but I could never understand why that lost lord didn’t just say “run the fuck away nightmares are real here”...until now. Some things here are dreams, some are nightmares...and some are both. This is one, and, for many people I’ll meet, _so am I_. Sometimes, the only difference between a dream and a nightmare is who’s doing the dreaming.

I still need a kiss. I need my pet. She moves unresisting with my hand when I cup her face and open her mouth with my thumb before leaning down to meet her lips, and then we’re lost in it together, making out...

Oooh, coo, yum Master, okay, hands moving me, straddle you in front, yes, unf your cock’s right they’re maybe you’ll put it in me that would feel so awesome, want the cock...mmf, kiss...

Oop, no falling, not allowed fall stay on.

The wet warmth of pet’s cunt against my navel requiring me to decide if I’m going to have sex with her again draws me out of the kiss to find her straddling me, arched to meet my lips, intent on this task, steadying herself with hands on the outer parts of my collarbones so she doesn’t fall to one side. It’s a surreal sight: I’m standing, swaying still with the waves, but she sits astride me as if I’m lying on some narrow bench, carefully steadying herself to stay atop me.

She smiles proudly on seeing my face, obviously pleased with her work, and I return the expression.

“Good girl.”

Purr.

It’s noticing that she’s steady despite my swaying, unaffected by any gravity but mine, that cracks it.

This place is full of a force that turns desire into gravity. I’m unsteady and light because something about the sea of flesh above me draws me even as I’m repulsed and horrified, but pet knows exactly what she wants, and feels only that. She’s noticed the orgy, maybe even finds it beautiful if I was reading her right before, but I’m the gravity she feels.

And I’m drawn because I see in them the same happy surrender to each other my pet now aims at me.

Finally, I begin to understand Sade Hall. Life on Earth is full of limits, needs to stay able to function in the world that give a basic shape to every life regardless of one’s wants.

Here, all those limits are wiped away. 

The lust of the people above is bottomless, and here in the place where they needn’t eat or sleep or even _breathe_ they can give themselves to it totally.

I want to be horrified, I want to begrudge their pleasure, I want to save them or turn away in disgust, and I can’t, because if I judge them ill I judge myself the same. I’ll walk a different path with my pet, but she’s going to belong to me just as much as these people do each other.

My joints settle, weight returns to my feet.

This is the place where _dreams_ are real.

We are monsters. We’re the things that go bump in the night and make strange wet sounds in the dark and jump suddenly from the shadows and though monsters can terrify each other still these above us now are kindred spirits, the same dream, seen from a different place.

Motion, softness surrounding me: pet’s straddling thighs and carefully placed hands shifting as my stances changes, her breasts brushing my chest where she still sits, waiting for my command, watching my face, curious and expectant.

I take her hips and lift them, then lower her slowly onto my cock, pressing our mounds together, savoring pet’s writhing and overwhelmed expression when we meet and my tip finds the limit of her cunt deep inside, stretching her.

“Look at me when I fuck you.”

Eyes open, come on, can do it. Oh Master, oh so deep, love you...

“Good girl.”

Mmmf kissed purr...

No riddles, no tests, just celebration.

We’ve been celebrating, since before we came in here. How long have we been feeling this force? It’s what, I think, suspended us from the abyss above.

I can’t share in their surrender, will never forget my name, but they fill their domain with a force that lays hunger for another bare, that makes one want to join and join with their beloved, that reveals the demand for ownership in that depth of need, and that I can honor, just as pet mirrors the surrender they understand so well.

This time I use her, unabashed, guiding the ministrations of her hands and tongue with murmured commands, showing her how to fuck me with hands on her hips. When she bites her lip and trembles, I tell her she’s to come when I do - making sure not to leave her too long in this gap of torment - and then when we do explode I take her head in my hands, leaning it against my own so we can look into each others’ eyes as we come.

We rest only a moment before beginning again, and this time I raise her away from me, wrists gripped helpless, so I can watch her breasts bounce with my pounding, far more vigorous this time, and she grins wildly, riding me like a storm...

Seven times we fuck, before we’re sated again for the moment, before it seems complete, and each time I come harder and she seems to pull the lust from someplace deeper within me, as if my virginity is something that comes in layers we can pierce one by one, and when our panting, pounding breath finally steadies enough to allow thought again it feels as if we’ve drunk gallons of each other.

Pet’s glowing brightly, blinding in the darkness, when we’re finished, and the next image is cast vivid and detailed against a far effigy that was hidden in the darkness before:

The same idealized depiction of myself, dressed in a wizard’s robe, holds something with a handle aloft so that it seems that it’s buried in a wave of the orgy where the image ends. At his feet, four succubi, femmes, attached by chains to the handle that run to collars at their neck, clamps at their nipples, and disappearing between their legs. Each is naked and holds an object: my pet, wet with spilled nectar looking at the human with love and raising a cup for him, another, delicate with feathery wings presenting a sword like the one I’d forgotten was strapped to my back, the third with a huge coin in her arms, heavy like her curvaceous build, and finally a fourth with a long, massive dildo, tip of her tail wreathed in flame, looking ready to spring and place it vigorously...somewhere.

Oooh, that’s bright. Oh, I’m bright. That’s why feels warm. 

Sooo _fucked_. Purrrr.

This new image is cast in the bare back of another femme statue - again, it’s not lost on me that the magic is choosing from a sea of possibilities appealing, submissive feminine forms to guide me with - spread-eagled, head thrown back with lust over the tentacles that ensnare her legs and disappear into her cunt and ass, four lovers of varying gender holding her limbs splayed and using her fingers and toes to pleasure themselves. Limbs of massive statues reach through the space, making a path from the flank we stand on to where I can see the darkness of more passageways on either side of the far statue.

Waves rise on either side of us as I carry my pet toward our new destination until at one point I’m threading our way down a narrow crevasse of writhing, fucking bodies. This close I can feel the pull of their lust, the invitation to join them and dissolve powerful, but only that: an invitation they give simply by existing. No hands will reach out to drag us in.

When we reach the flank of the far statue and I see the images just beyond making out around her side, I turn, unsure, wishing to salute the orgy in some way, but what does such a - creature, the word bounces drunkenly through my head, shouting its suitability to the situation despite the ever-weaker protestations of whatever it was in me that once evaluated normalcy - what does such a creature appreciate?

We’re both bare-assed but for sword and pendant, but we do have one thing to give, and it’s been appreciated so far.

OOOOH oh fingers in me that’s nice boo. More fingers?

Boo.

Pet writhes and coos pleasingly when I take her by the arm to raise her a bit away from me and reach within her cunt for a handful of mingled nectar and come, and then finding only nectar I add to it the drop of come that’s gathered in my foreskin, and, now watched by the hungry-eyed succubus resting against me, step near the wave that’s been slowly engulfing our statue and offer my hand, dripping the lust they’ve inspired in us, and when it’s near enough a feminine face whose eye I’ve caught lifts itself from the crowd to quickly take my hand in its lips before vanishing again.

Thanks for a good time.

Bye, awesome orgy thing!

Maybe if I’m extra seductive I’ll get used for fingers some more. Whoop, whee!

Pet’s weight shifts on me as we leave the chamber and gravity returns to its usual level of insanity and I catch her with an arm under her ass as she suddenly slides slickly down my body, reminding me how totally covered with nectar we’ve gotten in all our excitement - both our forms shine, slippery like the polished statues.

To my surprise, she doesn’t instinctively throw her arms around my neck and I nearly drop her before remembering my earlier rule about holding on. Didn’t I tell her to hold on? No, I stopped her between then and now.

“Put your arms around my neck and hold on.”

Grabbed.

Slippery Master. Feels yummy. Snuggle.

She’s soft and wet against me, body warm and slick like the kiss I give her.

There’s a sense of finality about the image we’ve followed in here, so I’m not too shocked to see only optically distorted images of pet carried in my arms as we round the curve of the statue’s flank.

That’s finished, then. It feels right, but the stones are still in her: we’re not there yet.

The lesson I’ve been being pounded with literally since stepping in here finally starts to sink in: No challenge, no test, just celebration. It’s down to my choice, now - but not my choice of the Right Answer or Deepest Truth. Home will be the direction I choose, as long as I choose honestly, _really_ honestly, the honesty that just nearly tore my sanity apart standing and toasting my common ground with the mass of lovers on the other side of this statue. All I have to do now is follow what I like.

So what direction, honestly, really, do I, the monster with a pet succubus on my arm, want to go right now? Can I look straight at what I am, what she is, and celebrate it?

The new space is another gap between lovers: the owner of the penetrating tentacles is, unexpectedly (and then I realize no particular gender should have been ‘expected’ here) female, and we’re standing below one statue’s breasts, looking ‘up’ at the other’s midriff and breasts. Their mounds are close, but not touching, and there’s a narrow space to crawl around the side of the tentacle where it snakes down over flank and mound between the tentacle-owner’s engorged, ready cunt and the other’s very full one. 

Was there ever another direction I was going to go?


	19. Further Down and Further In

Gravity shifts around as we pass - me leading pet headfirst this time, so that I can easily pull her back into my arms when the space opens again - and we find ourselves resting, pet laying atop me cradled in the blooming inner lips of the tentacle-owning statue’s massive cunt, looking up at the other’s beautifully, hugely penetrated lips.

Above my head, it feels almost as if a path burns: home, this way.

Pet raises her head for a moment as we settle, looking at something along the edge of the great inner lips.

“What do you see?”

“Pussy. Rings.”

Rings? Twisting my head to the side, I can just see an iron tiedown ring set into the swell of flesh beside where the stone labia support my hips, and another on the other side. I calculate, then shift, flipping myself atop my pet so that she’s now cradled in the lips and I’m looking predatorily down into her eyes for a moment, making her shrink into herself fractionally even as she looks back hungrily, before turning us both around so that my knees brace comfortably in the curves of flesh on either side of the statue’s entrance and pet rests in the broadest part of the lips, tail nestled into the crease where they meet and running down between her legs.

What a tragedy it would’ve been to pass this without playing here! There are a pair of rings, set into the stone midway between the swell of the statue’s inner lips’ broadest point and projecting clit, one on either side, and pet coos happily as I gently raise each of her arms and clip it to the ring, then looks lustful and hopeful as I raise each leg, watching for signs of discomfort as I still don’t quite believe her unreasonable flexibility and clipping it to the same ring so that she’s spread open, cunt thrust out and splayed wide, gleaming in its own reflected light when I come near.

“Comfy?”

Ooooh hands, your hands on thighs, on ass, oh fuuck beside pussy where it’s all stretched out because I’m folded fuuuck touch me oooh...

Voice. Master. You’re pretty.

I stop my exploration of her projecting vulnerability so that she can notice some other sensation, and when she nods, glancing down hopefully...

MMmmmfffmm kiiisss MMF TONGUE so much hehe mmm facefucked with tongue I love you Master mmmff here yours, take...

...oh take...oh I wanna melt. I wanna melt so you can drink me up.

Arm beside my head holding you up, legs over me, cock right there, I’m surrounded by Master. I wish I could pop like that femme we saw in the Stained Hall, pop and let you catch me and mold me back together, then I’d _really_ be yours, yum.

Yes, kiss, okay, you want my lips, take, oohf! Human teeth are so sharp...mmmff...tongue in...open...let you under, let you over, all yours, see?

How can it be possible to put so much submission into a kiss without simply disappearing? She follows my lead, supple, ready, compliant, embracing every move, and yet not simply passive, like all the furious lust of her being is a storm of nectar I’m shaping like leading her in a dance whose steps are just the shape of my will.

Oh cock, it’s so hot next to my cunt, smells so good, feel so good if you put it in me...OH FUCK “OOOH” oh Master unnf I make so much noise when you touch me like that! I’m wanna kiss obedient but..."unh!”...but...oooh...

Moving my free hand to run down through the cleavage this position gives her, over her compressed midriff, and into the slippery, taut, spread-open folds of her cunt forces beautiful sounds out of her, voiced into the kiss, interfering cutely with her ability to kiss me back.

I pull away to let her moan properly, and, looking into her eyes so I can watch it crack her expression open, plunge three fingers inside her.

“AAHH!” Oooh fuuuck oh my fuck that’s so big, why don’t I get used to...

Oh my fuck it’s because I stretch back. This is why I’m so stretchy. Hehe...FUUUCK...

Her expression changes all at once as if I’ve curled the fingers into her G-spot and I’m hit with a sudden mental image, fleeting but vivid, tinged with a sensation of multiple small hard round things: this vision given by the rocks inside her over the connection I made by penetrating her so lovingly.

I withdraw my fingers, turning the image over in my mind until it fits into a new plan.

Boo. Want to feel something inside me.

 _Going to belong to me as much as these people do each other_

It’s not _going to_. This sweet little demon already is mine, has always been. She’s said, she’s said, I’m home, I’m her Master, I just haven’t been listening.

Pausing only to lick enough nectar off my hand that I can grip anything, I uncuff her - taking the cuffs off her wrists and ankles, leaving them clipped to the rings, I turn us again so that we’ve exchanged positions and I’m resting in the lips while she kneels astride my thighs, legs opened wide by my breadth to rest outside the lips beneath me.

Bondage is fun, but we don’t _need_ the bondage, because it’s inside her: she knows who she belongs to. Even without the stones enforcing it, she’ll stay bound to my will.

“Put your hands in your cunt and get them all nectary.”

Oooohh okay Master. “Ooooh, mmm...” Hehe, Master likes my sounds. My fingers feel so small after Master’s. 

Nectary now. Maybe not enough, I’ll keep going, Master will tell me when enough.

Mmmm...

“Now put it on my cock. Make me good and slippery.”

I’m allowed! Yus. Okay, nectar the cock, alllll over. Stroke stroke, hehe, my hands _are_ so small, you’ve grown so big, I can barely get them around you. Gonna need both hands for this.

Master?

Her hands are small and soft and hot and slippery and wet with dripping nectar that runs warmly onto my balls and mound as she works, and there’s a look of joy on her face that’s more than being an apparently-insatiable succubus who’s in love with me and knows she’s about to get another load of come.

“This makes you really happy.”

“Serving makes me wet. And...”

Wait, and?

“...and I thought you weren’t gonna let me hold it. We’ve fucked like thirty times already and this is the first time I’ve held it.”

Oh. Answering Master’s question, duh. Subspace is _kind_ of like being naked.

She’s right, shockingly. Even all the blowjobs have been hands-free on her part. A part of me tries to get distracted counting the number of times we’ve had sex, but I shut it down in favor of the task at...hand.

“Make my balls slippery tooooo fuuck...”

She complies, instantly, sliding a hand down to massage nectar into them, gentle and reverent as with my shaft, and I’m taken unaware by the slickness they have sliding through her nectary fingers. There’s no scale reference and I have no idea how big my body is now, but it feels like they’ve grown to ridiculous scale to match my cock, barely able to fit in one of her palms.

Giggle. Master really grew. Oooh, I love touching this, cocks are so great...

“Do you know how foreskins work?”

Nod nod nod. So fun.

“Good. Pull mine back. Gently.”

Hehe, too slippery, have to try and try, almost like jerking you off all gentle. Pullll, careful, slow, it’s like putting something in me when I’m not all fucked yet that day...theeere. Ooh, Master likes that, hehe. Yum to this.

It feels as she works like my cock has grown (she can barely encircle it with one hand), but the rest state of my foreskin hasn’t so that the stretch feels overwhelming and huge and nearly makes me come in itself.

“If you know how this works, you know you’re going to need a lot more nectar.”

Nod nod. Master’s looking at my...oh! Hand to my cunt right away Master.

“Fuuu...mmm...”

“Fill your hand right up, I wanna see you pour it onto me.”

Oh fuck okay...um...

“That means masturbate if you need to.”

Oh hell yes touch touch...ungh...fuck, now I’m gonna wanna cum again, fuuuckk...ooh...

“Good girl. Feels good?”

Nod nod nod eyes so wide

Hard to...get at my lips and catch nectar at the same time, but nnnfff my mound’s all bored, rub my palm there while I work...my...cliiit, ooh...

Omigod I could live off that smile till the Sea dries up. I love you, Master.

Touch me. Touch me everywhere.

A long moment of just watching her kneel there and touch herself, body gleaming in the dark, breasts squeezed by her arms so she can reach between her legs, wings moving absentmindedly and tail lashing erratically in response to the pleasure, and then she stops, frustration at the ended touch obvious, and carefully raises the hand that had been cupping her pussy over my tip, nectar spilling to splash hotly on my thighs and balls as she goes.

“Now rub that...on...”

The last words are hard to get out, because she’s already started, and the splash of nectar onto my bare head, followed by the total slipperiness of her hands massaging it in make me forget to breathe.

Ooh, Master loves.

“Good girl. Give the tip a kiss.”

O...okay. Mmmm, Master’s thighs on my nipples ‘cuz I’m bent over. Rub rub, move while I kiss, that’s yummy.

Kiss. Real kiss, wrap my lips around the tip. Oh god, nectary cock, oh please make me have more, please Master...

She lingers for a long, reverent moment, eyes shut, bright constellation of her lashing tail zipping drunkenly back and forth above her glinting silver hair and the warm weight of her breasts on my legs, then punctuates the kiss with a short, quick, gentle suck as she breaks contact and leans up again, looking to me for the next order.

“Goood girl. Now, climb on. Carefully, I’m really sensitive like this.”

Want that so much, why am I not...

“Which hole, Master?”

Oh.

It’s deceptive, she seems so lucid in this state, and hasn’t become stupid, and so it’s easy to forget that she lives in a world of zero decisions at the moment. With a start I realize the increasing slowness that’s been creeping into her movements, something I’d taken as just being a side effect of what even for a succubus is a lot of sex, is actually the stones threatening as I subtly loosen my grip, even as their work is almost done.

“Your cunt. Nestle down, take me good and deep.”

Okay, up, forward, have to go far, Master is long. Ooop eep falling whee!

Picked up by the waist. You’re so strong, yum.

The breadth of my hips combined with the way the folds of stone pussy support them makes her stumble as she crawls forward trying to get high enough on my body to set my tip against her entrance, so I catch her by the waist and raise her into position, then tense my cock and...

Ooops, hehe ooohh sliding up my lips unf.

“Hold my cock against the entrance to your cunt.”

Yes Master, always ready for _that_. Can just reach down to get it, careful, no fingernails, theeeere ooh yeah.

“Good girl. Keep it there.”

Yes MasOOOH oh oh please, please more...

My head pops with a soft slickness that makes my hips buck just a bit of their own accord into her and we exhale together as if the penetration has uncorked some relief at finally being joined again after not for such long minutes.

It’d be sort of sad to only now realize how I’m supposed to be using the stones inside her, when we’re about to be through with them, but that’s the lesson they’ve been trying to teach me, and it won’t go away when they do.

“Now put your arms behind your back and keep them there. You’re going to keep them there no matter what happens, understand?”

Eeep! Nod nod. “Yes Master.”

Arms back, hold my wrists in each other, like I’m my own box tie, oh, fuck, really am tied! The stones will...nf...

Feel so open, breasts all free like this oooooh fuuuck fuck me unf cock going in yes more, stretch me, fill...oh...eep full nf so full but...

Her thighs clutch, supporting her instinctively, when she reaches her limit, just before I’ve fully settled her weight against me. I might stop here and find another position, but for the way she was able to stretch the last bit just by a little slowness and care before, and but for what the stones showed me.

I push, gentle and slow, raising my hips to force myself into her, and she squeaks, overwhelmed...

Eeep oh fuck nf fuck fuck so full so good ow fuuuuck...

I pause.

“Relax. Take a deep breath.”

Iiiiin. Oouuut. Fuuuuuuck....

So full, so scary, I wanna melt, I wanna pop, I wanna...

“Relax your cunt. You’re clenching.”

Her weight’s resting against me now, and I can take one hand from her hip to lay the palm, fingers spread, against her navel.

If I relax right now, I’ll open, I’ll...oh...okay. Body’s doing it anyway, listening to Master. You have control of that I guess, I gave...ooh...oh that feels...amazing...

She takes another breath, slow, opening, and as she inhales I push again, driving her hips the rest of the way onto mine. There’s a moment of pain on her face, of resisting, and then—

“AAH!”

Omigod pressure the pressure’s like I’ll explode how can I want even more pressure but held together it’s like everything I am is hugged it’s like I was so dry and now a bath it’s like...wait, I don’t even have...what...

Fullness, a mountain inside me, beyond anything, luscious even as it tears me apart, luscious because it tears me apart, I’ll burst and dissolve in joy...

We scream together with the overwhelm when the connection is made, confused, sorting sensations for a motionless moment, learning whose body is whose again.

Someone’s gonna come if I take a deep breath, so, deep breaaath OH FUCK WHOAH THAT’S NOT JUST FEELING BOTH OF US—

Her eyes widen and her gaze drops to her navel but of course her breasts block what I see: my hand that had lain against her, sunk into her flesh to the wrist now as if it were water, like the stones did - this is their magic, part of their blessing.

OOOH OH MY FUCK MOVING ROCKS OH FUCK GASP GASP yes of course so you can grab them but FUUUCK GASP GASP GASP

“Does this hurt?”

I think I can tell over the connection, but ask anyway.

Shake...shake shake...but...omigod...

Good.

She’s overwhelmed, inside, and it overwhelms me, the second body worth of input making even seeing out of my own eyes hard: rocks moving through her body toward my hand from where they’d distributed themselves throughout her form, cock filling her, the crazy impossible feeling of my hand inside her like getting fucked raised to the billionth power, and over all of it lust pounding like a negative rhythm, a hunger to feel drumbeats she needs like air but can only feel in the pulse of my blood, the throb of my cock, the impact of my hand against her ass, every beat the most sublime nourishment, the deepest love...

And this time there’s no distance of helpful magic. The sensations of my hands on her side and inside her are as real and near as those of her thighs gripping me...and the sense of my own hips, comfortingly solid between her legs.

The rocks are coming to me, obedient, but while I’m within her and can feel what my hand plunged through her flesh like this does to her, there’s something to try.

“AAAH OHHHH FUUU NNNNF” omifuck that’s so big to move around inside me eep eep OOOH

OH FUCK

She’s not solid inside, beyond what’s necessary to have a solid form that’s fuckable and can move on its own ( _’not much to me but lungs and pussy’_ \- suddenly I understand that she wasn’t being figurative or romantic), and unlike a human I can see that she’s full of sensation as I reach deeper inside and find the little nodule of flesh stretched out against the form of her shaft-filled cunt, pulled just above her pubic bone by the sheer size...

FUUUUUUUCK OOOH FUUCK NO SUPPOSED TO ASK BUT FUUUUUUUUUCK _UNF_

* * *

AAAH 

* * *

There are no words.

Everything throbs like the heartbeat of the universe coming.

My consciousness and identity return first and I find myself still in her, pumping come (thus united, one of us coming without the other is a nonsensical idea) into her where it spreads hot and comforting through her liquid inside while she rides me, rigid with the sensation, head thrown back in a silent scream, arms incredibly still obediently clasped behind her back.

Oh my fuck fuck oh my fuck Master...holy fuck how am I still...solid...

Wait, no, behind back, arms, what are...eep, Master can...

“It’s okay.”

Oh my fuck you can move me oh fuck can I still move me wait yes but...weak...so weird...like I’m all stretched, heh, too stretched to move, mm.

The first of the rocks bumps against my hand inside as I reposition her.

It’s like her body is a paintbrush we’re both holding, painting this beautiful vista together, though the motions she makes on her own seem slow, effortful, as if my hand on the brush is heavy while hers is light. She resists, just for a moment, trying to be obedient before she understands what’s happening, then I have her arms in front of her, braced against my chest, steadying her for the next part.

Braced. Eep.

Steeling myself against the coming intensity - there’s no way to fend off the sensation, I’m as naked to it right now as she is - I slowly, carefully, release our united cock and cunt...

Oooh. So intense.

Uuuuunnnnh eeeep...

...turn and cup my hand...

Fuuuck oh fuck pant...

Moving anything through her unsolid inside is overwhelming, a feeling of being stretched and opened satisfying like scratching an itch but terrifying: there are no defenses here, not even the tender elastic resilience of a cunt, and though the space my fingers open as they move inside her closes again behind them as if never existing I could easily by lack of care cross the line between fucking her and tearing her apart.

The first stone is in my cupped palm.

There are twelve more - the number came to me with the vision of doing this - arranging themselves to be grasped.

Eeep oh eep. Scared, Master.

The pain of her lip bitten in fear brings my eyes back to her face from where they’ve absently settled on my wrist extending into her navel as if I could see what I’m doing inside her, so I fix her gaze with mine, trying to radiate comfort, relax her jaw to free the lip and save it being bitten _off_...

Can’t...oh. Ulp. Okay, Master.

It’s not just the motion of my hand and the stones within her she fears: they’ve threaded themselves throughout her being as we’ve played, making themselves part of the psychic circuits that unite her soul and body, and we can feel them pull at these as they move, sensation overwhelming and incomprehensible.

Fuck oh fuck what’s my body doing...oh, Master’s making sure I’m braced. Brace with him, not like I can fall with this much cock in me anyway but still...

What the stones have shown me is this: they have one final blessing to bestow, a physical reflection of the connection we’ve been building tonight.

Ulp. Here goes OOOH FUUUCK—

I sweep my hand carefully through her, gathering the stones, and pull, withdrawing carefully back along the path of my wrist’s entry, the stretch of my closed fist passing back through her skin a moment of intensity almost like orgasm, though shorter-lived.

She writhes, we both do, reacting to the sensation, and only our combined will keeps her body steady enough to let me draw the stones out without incident - I’m spending no small amount of my own attention keeping my own body where it needs to be. They come, filling my hand, and with them comes a feeling like and unlike threads pulling through her body, tugging, stretching out sluggishly like very slow nectar—

UNGH

My hand pops free with a yelp from my pet and a big splash of actual, literal, nectar, stretching out far thicker longer than normal between us before falling hotly to my navel as I withdraw my hand, full of stones.

Pet’s gaze follows the hand, and we can both feel the invisible strands of power that have followed it out of her, slipping and sliding into place around each other until they’ve wrapped themselves together into a sort of psychic chain linking her heart (not human, not of the kind that beats, but resting nonetheless behind her breasts in the center of her chest) to the stones in my hand...no.

To me. It’s a leash, but I’m not sure I could put it down even if I were capable of wanting to.

Omigod. Like your hand’s around my heart, this is amazing. Oh Master, love you.

Whoof!

A leash made of emotion is as long as you feel like it is. I tug, and her chest arches toward me, pulled against bracing arms.

“This is going to be fun.”

Nod nod nod.

She grins, half-wicked and half loved, but there’s a question on her face as she sighs and relaxes into the control.

“What’s up, pet?”

Okay, if I’m not controlled enough right now that I can dare ask this, I’m never gonna be. 

C’mon, self. Slave 101, ask for what I want, that’s my only way of getting anything.

“Could...I think I can move...you too, like this. Could I try?”

Hehe, it’s hard to talk with your heart pierced.

Of course. The connection is two-way, we’re just clear on who’s in command. I try to relax my body, and nod.

Nnnff...you’re _heavy_.

Well, heh. You’re heavy and I’m fucked.

Okay, concentrate, the muscle’s the same place in your body, make it squeeze OOH uhuh yup that works.

“Oooh...unnh...oooh...” Pant pant that’s amazing but so hard.

For a moment, nothing, then, freakish, muscles moving on their own: my cock clenches, rising and growing as she pulls each kegel out of me, one after another. I’m enhanced here, too, I realize, having this happen without the distraction of will, each clench making a much bigger difference of size, shape, and solidity than before - much to both our pleasure, as it moves me inside her.

“That is _weird_. You look like it’s really hard.”

The expression she wears could be the effort on the edge of orgasm, but I don’t feel any such thing in her body. 

Nod nod nod. “You’re...heavy...OOH!”

This last clench was all me, and I’ve backed it up with clenching her cunt around me simultaneously. It’s powerful for a moment, and then just as powerful, the muscle surrenders, giving in suddenly as my cock expands.

“You’re light as a feather.”

Hehe. Grin. We know which was this river of cum flows.

Let’s try...oooooof heavy...

My hands are already at her throat and squeezing when I snap back from the distraction of feeling them move on their own - there’s a vague, almost metaphorical sense of something soft and silkily silver-haired in my nerves, moving as she moves me.

Unf...tighter. Squeeze, come on, make me feel...

“Be careful, I think I’m really strong now.”

Mrf. It’s not the same, of course not, it’s about losing control, not my neck wanting to get jerked off.

Losing control...

“You want something else, too. What?”

I might not pick up the expressions, normally, but I can feel her make them right now, a heavy effort against the metaphorically taut control.

Fuck, eep...

“Um...Master...if you’d be into it and you feel like it right now...will you make me fuck you? Like, use me as a puppet, just make me do stuff?”

Ulp.

“Is...is that lazy? I’ve always wanted to try it, but...”

I can’t blame the request: even on our own, we’d be ready again by now, and the whole time the maddening wish to fuck and fuck until everything forgotten that fills this place has been seeping into us...

“Lazy?”

My hands, both of them, are still at her throat, though not squeezing now.

“I wanna just ride along while you use both bodies instead of having to do anything. Maybe...that’s kinda lazy, you like it so much when I serve you.”

Eeep eep eep yours yours I’m good I’ll...eeep...ok choking’s a lot scarier when you’re not doing it to yourself oooh...oooh fuuck okay...

In reply, I tighten my grip about her neck again, solid and controlling, and roll her hips against mine and find instantly that it’s irresistable to work them down and find the angle that best presses her cunt’s warm, kissing lips against my slippery, smooth mound, then writhe a bit more and find how to grind her clit against me, my cock a comforting, lovely hardness deep inside to move against, making every motion satisfying...

“You mean you wanna just be my toy. That’s not lazy.”

MMmmf fuck I’m so wet and soft, so slippery, and you...you poor thing, you don’t have any of that of your own, well, now you do, hehe, but...all yours Master, you need me! Yeah, get inside, take...oooh...oh my fuck, so weird, those are my hands on my breasts but it feels like Master, I can taste you in my own hands, oh my fuck...

Hehe, they’re so small! Nf, breasts wanna be squished but my hands can barely cover the niiiiples oooh yus so that’s why we’ve gotta do the squishing them with folded...arms...thing....yum...mm...

There’s muscle memory in her body, or I wouldn’t be able to even use it as awkwardly as I do, and she has a lot of muscle memory for this: it’s clearly a habit, and I’m as much finding and following a path when with tiny soft nectar-slippery fingers I pinch a nipple and then run them across making both of us squirm as each finger tugs it before popping by.

The sensation is terrifying, like from my own hands, softness overflowing, but I’m tiny...no, I’m a mountain inside...and...

Even the hardness of her nipple is intense, on these fingers, as if...

“Your hands are as soft as your cunt.”

A flash of memory, how gingerly she carried the box of elements on the ship: I’d taken it for reverence, but anything else would have felt to her like jabbing the metal between her legs: this is why she wore gloves.

Nod nod.

“Masturbation must be amazing for you.”

Uh oh, that’s a hand heading down my front, ooh over my tummy tastes like Master feels like me so weird...

More muscle memory unfolds as her fingers run over her mound, down between us, then almost automatically to her clit, settling into the folds on either side of it. I squeeze, pinching just gently in between strokes of grinding against my mound - so impossibly slippery, felt through her fingers - and we both lurch and gasp with the sensation.

Oh my...oh please...

Moments pass, time, because the time is full of motion and lust and locked eyes and feeling, but it seems like her body is pounding to come almost instantly, wiping away any plans I had of using the control to torment her.

Ooohh...that’s right, c’mon, oh please make me cum, ooooh....UUNH!

How does she resist this at all? The wish is overpowering, driving my...her...fingers on until we burst, my orgasm pulled out this time by hers—

Pound. I must POUND, I must fuck her. As soon as I can find the will to let her throbbing, burning, pleasure-soaking clit fend for itself with my mound I seize my with soft feminine demonic hands my wrists where they’re still at her throat, forgotten, brace, and thereby lift her up my shaft—

Oooh fuck whee that’s intense oof no you can’t pull out eep ow—

Our bodies protest almost instantly, hers against the removal of my mound from her clit and the way my cock, still caught in her inner mouth, tugs against her cunt, mine against the tugging at my head, but this is okay because I’ve raised her enough to bring her back down with a wet smack against my hips and the impact echoes through us as if her clit and my shaft are a puddle of fire splashing out from between our four legs on each stroke because oh yes I raise and drive her down again, and then again...

Oh.

My.

Fuck.

Oh. 

Ung!

FUCK!

YES!

AAH!

AAAH OH MASTER—

The intensity is doing something to us, making us want more sensation, and I find myself drawing her higher with each stroke, spreading her legs wide as I drive her down, relaxing every muscle she has so I can pound harder, feel more of the stretch as the orgasm pounds through us, sustained by the rhythm as if it’ll go on forever...

UNF UNH UUN ooh pant pant oooh pant ooh...

I never will find out how it is we manage or decide to stop, but suddenly I’m blinking, coming back to myself, pet wrapped around me but laying down now with the curve of one horn nestled into my chest as if it were shaped to fit (which it was, the thought comes with a little pulse of warmth at what she is), still impaled, her cunt a pleasant wetness around me warm and like a kiss, affectionate. Her hips move, gently, savoring, but of their own accord, and the overwhelming hyper-empathy sense of being double-bodied is gone: I’m deep within her, but out enthusiasm has finally managed to pull me out of her inmost place so that we’re ‘merely’ fucking and she has control of her...well.

She’s back to following orders. The stones have arranged themselves around my hand into the handle of a leash, clinging to each other like powerful magnets, reminding me of who’s in control of what. I can feel the strands of power, unphysical but real like that first dismissal, still connecting us, moving with pet’s comfortable, slow breathing against my chest.

Wrapping my fingers around the handle, taking hold of it and her, I lift her by a horn and kiss her gently, soft and slow, and when I peek her tail has risen to swish lazily as we embrace each others’ lips.

“Good girl. I love you.”

Puuuurrrr...oh I feel so good. Oh Master.

“Are you ready to go home, pet?”

Oh fuck yes. Puuurrr.

She just looks at me, wordless and happy, but there’s something sentiently affirmative in the way she purrs after I finish the question.

“I’m afraid we have to stop fucking for a moment, then.”

Boo. Order me, I don’t wanna.

With a last kiss, deep with sudden devouring passion that draws a surprised squeak out of her, I take her by the waist and lift her off, gasping in unison with her at the tightness of her cunt letting me out and pulling my foreskin back into place, and place her straddling me in front of my cock, my smile hitching with surprise when her tail settles into place where her cunt just was, coiling tightly against itself along my shaft.

Mwaha, grin.

“Go ahead, fuck me with your tail. You know you want to.”

I let her have a few lovely strokes while I twist around to distractedly collect the cuffs from where they still dangle and return them to Cleavage’s strap - it’s like a hand, and not, the coils a wonderful series of bumps that run slippery over the ridge of my head as she works me - and then order her to her feet and follow. The statue is slick with her nectar as if we’ve aroused it by playing here, making it hard to stand, and this makes the rock hot under my feet with the delight of touching something alive and so female, like it were a real cunt.

“You’re going to finish that tailjob when we get home, and then I’m going to watch you lick the come off your barb.”

Omigod. Purrr.

“Now, come on.” She’s poised to follow anyway, obedient, but I give the leash a little tug for the sheer joy of it.

Unnf coming this makes me want a physical leash so much.

“Follow me close, I want you near.”

“Yes Master.”

Close enough to brush my nipples on your back, that’d be fun...fuck, I just want you forever. Please take me again soon, Master.

Master. That word really is gonna change me.

Unnff.

I can feel that we’re close now, and it’s good, because I can also feel all the events of the evening towering up, teeming, a wave that will wash over me and not dash me to pieces only if I’m asleep comfortably in my own bed.

Pet feels this too, I fancy. Perhaps far worse, given what she slept through in the car.

Oooh it feels weird, the strings are all through me. This is intense, am I always gonna feel this now? It’s got that permanent way to it...

Gravity falls sideways again when we proceed on, bringing us out onto the back of the statue’s thigh, the rise of its ass a curving wall to our left. The statues are huge, and tangled thickly here: images, memories, of the lust of the orgy we just left, I suppose, growing up in stone on the shores of the sea that births it. I did see tentacles threading through it. I’m following pure whim, now, just exploring one interesting statue or body part after another, drawn on by some instinct I can’t quite name...no. I’m following from one appealing image of feminine submission to the next, picking them out of the tangle where I can see them. Where else would I want to live?

I’m following these images because they inspire me. Pet comes near, too deferential to do anything as active as embrace me or cling, but so close I can feel the warmth of her breasts on my skin, when I stop us perched on the rise of a particularly nice mound to admire the same image that seems to have this statue running fingers through the lips just below our feet: a feminine succubus, naked like all the statues in this part of the Hall, standing with wings thrown back, head bowed by the hand that rests atop it, looking up lovingly out of eyes that with the angle can’t quite meet the gaze of her owner, a masculine human who towers over her, strong and lithe. All three statues seem to float as if in a renaissance painting, feet of the upright pair dangling, supported like every other statue here by the gripping, caressing, fondling hands of the rest of the crowd.

It’s more than inspiration. I’m picking my own needs out of this sea, and I need my pet to look at me this way, and I can just _make her_. I take her by a horn and step her back from me a step, bending her head to be bowed in the same motion.

Bow my head, drop my eyes, put hands behind my...nf. What the, whats...oooh. Hoooot. 

Puppet strings, the leash is fucking _puppet strings_. Oh my _fuck_ yes please.

Pulling on my arms. So where do they go, then, Master? Pulled in front of me, squish my breasts out a little, I should arch...okay, you’re gonna pull on me and _make_ me arch my back and push out my breastsss oh fuuck it’s so tight, it’s so tight and it tastes like you and it tastes like you inside me like inside my body I bet with a little practice you can make me cum with these, string me up and make me cuuum oooh fuck that’s...ooh hehe that’s my own fingers, you pulled them into my cunt, oh god you left me just enough slack to rub myself wait fuck no don’t pull so I can’t touch my clit.

Arch, tight, pulled, barely move, head’s free now but I can’t look up, just barely see you grinning, oh that smile, I wanna fuck your smile...

Her look of frustration is quickly replaced by lust and a fight to keep her eyes looking at me as I slide my fingers between hers and then into the folds of her pussy, squeezing her clit just a bit as I stroke it, holding her taut with the leash in my other hand, and then...

Unnnnffffff...

Huh.

Her eyes stray momentarily from smouldering up at me to glance at something over my shoulder, a darting flicker of attention noticeable at all because I’ve gotten used to her gaze being fixed on me like I’m the only thing in the world.

“What do you see, pet?”

“...beds...”

“What?”

But I don’t let up rubbing.

“Beds. In...mmm...the shadows. All different ones.”

Oooh...c’mon, do something, this is amazing...

I see a universe of amazing stone pornography, but no beds - the statues here are naked and without props, like the orgy that’s produced them. Pet’s glow is the only light, casting looming, shifting, impenetrable shadows all around us, edges indefinite with the changing shape of her constellations.

 _Oh._ “This is your shadow-jumping thing. You see where we could go.”

If we’re not in a dark place full of forgotten shadows and if I don’t believe things could jump out of _these_ shadows, there never were dark shadows in the universe.

Nod nod ooh weird pulling against the strings.

OOooohh—boo.

With a last friendly squeeze, I let her cunt go, and relax the tension on her body, taking a horn instead to gently direct her gaze toward the statues I’ve just been looking at.

“Is there one up there? Tell me about it.”

“It’s green and blue. Round with big fuzzy blankets. In the shadow of the top’s nose.”

Not my style. 

“What else do you see?”

I let her horn free, and she looks around as I point here and there, describing:

“Just like a huge pile of red cushions. Velvety.”

“Laciest comforter _ever_.”

As she describes them, relish growing in her voice as if she’s trying to titillate me by describing the statues themselves, it starts to really sink in just how tired we both are, how much we’ve been running on nectar and adrenaline and the sheer rush of finally being together.

“It’s really tall and poofy with curtains. Rubber, I think?”

“Does a hammock count as suspension?”

And so on. There’s nothing overt, but as she talks I can’t help but start to feel like there’s a relationship between the shadow I point to and the bed it contains, as if each describes the other in metaphor.

“You’re not describing people. Are they all empty?”

“Yeah, it’s weird, they almost seem like...calling. Like...aw! Master, I think this is all the places where the rocks are bored. Like these are all the rooms that need...”

“...someone to live in them. Hah.”

I shouldn’t be trying by now anyway, but I still can’t quite chase away the tiny note of disappointment that none of these beds come with new bedmates.

Nod nod nod.

“How about over there?”

It takes me embarrassingly long to tell her to look at the shadows we cast into the folds of the cunt we’re standing on, but when I do, I’m immediately rewarded:

“Superhuge, and like, I think five-sided? Can’t see all of it from here. Silky-shiny silver sheets, with a big poofy comforter that’s purple and silver, like me.”

Master likes this one. More, then.

“And like nine thousand pillows. It’s hard to see from the angle but I think it’s like part of a four-poster thing. Tie rings on the headboard, and all around the edge, anyway, and...”

OMG.

“...and the headboard’s really tall and mirrored but with some kinda drawing on it I can’t quite see. Looks like a summoning circle or something. And...”

Please oh please Master I want a mirrored headboard.

It’s already perfect, and everything she says makes it better. Tugging her cunt-first with the puppet-strings, I start us toward it...and then quickly stop, perched atop the place where two fingers cover a clit that would be nearly as large as my pet: the shadows of course move, when we do, because pet is the light source.

Spikes. Duh. Shadow of her mound on her labia, that’s not gonna exist if we walk up to it now matter how much she’s thrusting. Um. Then how...wait! Look Master!

Pet notices the same thing, then suddenly looks to me, then back to the towering owner and pet, this time at their feet, shouting a wide-eyed ‘Master Master look’ sort of expression at me.

“What do you see? We can’t get there, can we, the shadow won’t exist.”

“It’s over there now! The same bed. That’s what we’re going for, right?”

“Good girl. Yes.”

The geometry is unmissable: the pair my pet’s looking at is definitely what our current statue is pleasuring herself to - all three are part of the same scene, as is the uncommonly large open space that gives her (and us) a clear line of sight to the upright (by the local gravity and the nature of their pose) pair - and we saw the bed in the masturbater’s cunt because she’s seeing it in the two.

How do you jump into a shadow you yourself are casting? Or can we chase it like a dark rainbow and be led in the end to the image it shows us?

If only we could make the darkness absolute like before for a moment, somehow cover pet’s light, but we’re naked and...

“Can you control your glowing?”

Can I? Think dark thoughts, hehe.

NNnnnf. Nope.

“I don’t think so. It’s like purring, it just kinda happens. I’m kinda starting to lose control of that kinda stuff, I think, now that you’re here.”

That’s...later. Another question for the stack. Things I’ll be surprised to wish I’d brought along for being abducted by a succubus and taken to her home, #37: pen and paper.

And then it dawns on me, so simple.

“Does it have to be the rocks casting the shadow? Could we use mine?”

“Not the Rocks necessarily, but you have to have a spot that’s old and forgotten, and it has to be dark for a long time, and it has to connect with...wait. What?”

What the fuck? How can...?

She’s glancing around, presumably poring over shadow contents I can’t see, consternation growing, and shifts on her feet, tipping left and right, looking past me.

Finally she stops and turns back to me, lips parting to speak, but of course...

Nf. Fuck. Hehe.

I let the moment stretch out, relishing her muteness and the flicker of surprise that crosses her face - she keeps forgetting this bondage - as her tongue fails to obey, smiling down at her, and it feels like sex, like the most passionate kiss, some silent blazing connection between us as I look into her eyes that isn’t magic or the leash or even the relish with which she drinks in the lust I’m radiating across the few inches between us.

Nf? Mmmmmfff Master kissing me ooh heh I’m allowed to use my mouth for this mmm...mf! Lip sucked breaks free with a smack! Ooh...boo, no more?

“Talk to me, pet. What do you see?”

Oooh my fuck, Master. PURR. Do I have to? Can’t you just look at me like that for a few more centuries?

Um.

“I see the bed. The one you picked, purple and silv...aw! Purple and silver! I love you too, Master!”

Holy fuck smile at me yes please okay what else can I do to make you smile like that?

It’s so blindingly obvious that we’ve both missed it, busy with each other: pet is standing just behind me, relative to the pair of statues, and the shadow showing the bed is my own, has been the whole time.

“Can you just jump on me from behind?”

Nod nod nod. 

“As long as there’s a moment where the shadow’s around you like a door you’re goin’ through. It’s not even a long jump. You’ll have to go first, I can’t wrap you up like last time, but I think that’s okay, it’s so dark here and you don’t look like you need a push this time.”

She’s right about that last.

It’s easy to forget, in this darkness, with the only thing I really care about seeing picked out in a dense night sky of purple sparks, how bare her gloaming is, little brighter than actual starlight, brilliant-seeming only because the darkness is otherwise absolute. Her light reflects crazily off that statues around us, making a barely-visible, always-shifting, purple night sky reflection of the True Sea’s overwhelming vista, but where it doesn’t reach the shadows are deep and clear like pools of black water, bottomless and inviting.

 _Let’s go swimming_.

I tug pet’s puppet-strings again, holding her still as I climb down and brace my feet in the folds of our statue’s spreading inner lips, feeling the strings move and shift in my hand as she relaxes, settling against the bondage.

Nnnf, yum. Purr.

So...

“You need me to cast a shadow I could fall through, right?”

Nod nod.

“Yeah. We have to go down because that’s the way the shadow showed me.”

“Ready?”

I loose her bondage.

Nod nod.

Get a good look into your shadow. Bed, sheets, soft stuff, awesome mirrored headboard, home here we come!

Only as I lift her by the waist, raising her above my head while she curls into a ball to make herself as much like a point source as possible, do I recognize in our reflection funhoused in a polished stone labia majora the image from my vision of the cloaked King raising a light high, looking out across some unseen expanse—

Banzai!

OOF

 _Thud_

Impact—

Something shifts, deep inside my pet’s soul, motion that isn’t motion yanking a puppet string I hadn’t yet noticed as distinct, and the statue bucks under my feet as if struck and just for an instant we’re falling, dropping through the shadow like a pane of glass under my feet breaking but even before this is complete the new ground snaps into being surface and gravity just a fraction askew of the old one making me reel and drop my pet from above my head—

eeep EEP Oof oooh...hah, mm, nnf...

—barely catching her by the puppet strings so she ends up suspended, hanging helpless and oddly posed in midair, dangling impossibly from my hands half-raised above her.

Behind her is a door, set into a wall I have more important things to do than inspect. It’s stone, and the rock smokes: in the upper center of the door what looks like a sort of nameplate, ornate stone held by feminine carvings, seems to have just lost its inscription and become freshly blank.

Oh my fuck hanging from Master’s puppet strings. Play with me, play with me! Whee, upside down arms behind mmmmfff ooh okay ooooh god it goes so far down my throat like this, unf...boo, why are you pulling me of aga—ooh oOOOOH nnf so deep okay this, mmmmf, fun...

She responds instantly to being threaded onto my cock mouth-first, soft slippery hungry lips kissing the tip and then opening as it insists, tongue welcoming me with equal relish as her lips kiss their way down my shaft.

Turning her upside down, the strings are tangled so as to pull her arms behind her back and arch her, tight but not I think painful, and I draw her legs together, tugging and making those strings shorter until her thighs are pressed against each other, the triangle of her thrust-out cunt glistening with nectar just below my eye level as I start to fuck, raising her almost off again before lowering her back to where she can apply her affections to the base of my shaft while her throat works futilely to swallow me down as if inviting...

“Did you know that you kiss the same way you suck me off?”

Mmmmf, mm, yum...what? Mrf! Blush! I...do, fuck, fuck it yum mmmmf...

...mrf, blush...

Does her face grow warmer where it’s nestled between my legs? I may be blushing too, I can’t tell, but the thought will be with me now every time our lips meet.

I might easily lose myself in this pleasure, fucking her face while I watch her cunt rise and fall suggestively, maddening me that my hands are busy with the strings, but we’ve had enough sex now that instead I raise her off and turn her upright, freeing her arms and legs as I thump her against the door, supported by my hands one on her hip the other under her opposite arm, strings steadying her and now drawing her legs open instead of closed. I gawp, just for an instant, as a ripple goes through the stone at the impact, rings spreading out like the shiny surface is still water.

Reflection, my pet’s lights shining back out of the door: it’s mirrored, gleaming in the darkness, showing me the silhouette of my shape standing over my pet.

I pin her with my gaze and can feel something rise in me, monstrous desire that makes her shrink into herself even as she looks back, excited grin full of love, glistening, puffy lips seeming still to glow from sucking on me, begging to be kissed...

Mmmmmffff ooh fuck fuck it I do kiss like...mmf, fuuck fuck it give me Master’s tongue let me taste good...

Her lips close around my tongue as I pull away and so I stick it out, letting her slowly run them up its length and lasciviously off the tip, her face breaking into a pleased grin at the end when she sees the pleasure this gives me.

“I love you, and you are mine.”

Puuurrrrr. Love you too, Master.

“Yours.”

Nf...oh. I can show it, I am showing it, I don’t have to say it.

The admission is like pulling out some keystone, knocking free an avalanche of thought, fantasies and memories boxed up and filed away under God-will-hate-you spilling free, understanding what this whole journey actually is, why I am here now and why she is. This was the first fantasy, before I thought about the details of sex or hearts and flowers or anything like that, there was this, this moment, and we’ve been working backwards toward it since this started, since my room, since she woke me.

Maybe even before.

I step closer, laying a bit of my weight against her, shaft hard nestling between our mounds and the lips of her cunt, breasts compressed, a little breath pushed out of her.

Ooof, yuuum. ...purrr...

“You are mine, and this is my home, and you are going to live here and be my pet and my toy and my slave and everything else I made you say at the gates. You will exist to please me, and I will use you however I please, and it will make us both hot.”

I said this before, but it comes to me that one of the things I’ve been learning on this trip is that it never hurts to be specific.

Oooohhh fuuuck...fuck me...

She’s high on my body, head still thrown back a bit to look into my eyes, but the head of my cock rests just against her soaking, dripping clit, and I shift it slowly back forth now, moving her wet flesh like water, watching her eyes narrow and mouth drop open as I speak.

How many times has she had to be the one to explain this to me? There is...catching up to do.

“You are mine, and this cunt I’m teasing now is mine, and the legs I’m spreading are mine, and these eyes I’m looking into are mine, and so is all the rest of you. Do you understand?”

Nod nod nod. Yours, yours! Smile. Yours and I love it Master, see? Purrrrrr...

Fuuck, if I could just shift a little, I could get up on you and then you’d fuck me, but, bound, nf.

That expression, eep, but, my cunt, oh god fuck me, use me, scare me and make me feel good, make _you_ feel good...

She struggles against the strings, hungry to sink her cunt onto my cock, but I hold her fast. It’s the point of bondage, but makes a moment I can use to, as it were, drive things home.

“And when I’m not holding you back from it with puppet strings, will you put anything in that cunt without my permission or orders?”

“No Master.”

But you’re going to fuck me allll the time, right? I wanna be the toy you carry around everywhere...

“Good girl.”

I loosen the strings at her hips, letting them ‘slide’ through my fingers, and she bites her lip with the determination of not immediately working her way down and devouring me as her weight shifts onto her legs so that she’s supporting herself instead of merely dangling.

“So get onto my cock.”

Yuss up we go aaand fidget, get the angle, now just roll my hips forward a little to get you on my entrance...c’mon...on my entrance oh fuck mmf there it is NOM and—

“Did I tell you to fuck? Take it all and stay there.”

She’s run her cunt lusciously over my head from where it rested against her clit and plunged down, sliding nectar-slick between my body and the door, but now she starts to rise again, hungry to repeat the penetration.

Fuck. Ooops. Down. Fuck, so much, so full...

She slows taking me in as her mound nears mine and her cunt reaches its limit, face determined.

“Look at me. Let it show. I know what this does to you, I just felt, remember.”

I can feel now how close she is to opening within again, to making that final connection, the tip of my cock straining against her inner end.

Ooh...don’t think I could hide this if I wanter, Master. Fuuuck pleeeeease fuuuck me...

Her face is already breaking with lust, but at my order she forces her eyes to meet mine and lets her expression open, pouring out that sweet need that first made me risk my soul on seconds of evidence, mouth open in a silent hopeful plea, eyes half-mast but intense, brow furrowed.

“Good girl.”

I draw my hands back, pulling her limbs around me, and her tail follows seemingly by instinct, encircling a thigh and cupping my balls in the soft (and unexpectedly even after all this) prehensile barb.

“Now I’m going to let you off these puppet strings...well, let you have slack, anyway, and you’re going to give me a nice, slavey, please-my-master...fuck. You’re going to hang off me and work yourself on my cock until I come, and you’re not going to come yourself or make a sound because this is about being mine. Understand?”

Even with her just hanging there breathing, it’s hard to keep control of my voice enough to get a sentence out evenly.

Nod nod. I understand, Master.

Please oh please make your pet come soon, Master. Denial’s so hot, but, nf...

I release the strings, letting her weight settle onto me, and she clings, but lets the weight settle between us, grinding our slick, slippery mounds together, for a moment working mind-breaking pleasure just by moving fractionally like this, everything vivid because everything is so full and taught, and the she’s moving, working her hips lasciviously against me, cunt gripping and rhythm familiar like a caressing hand soft and slippery with flowing nectar...oh.

She’s been there for every handjob I ever gave myself, and she’s been _taking notes_.

Her eyes stay fixed on mine as she fucks, intent, but breaking with pleasure, narrowing and seeming to plead, as if I’m some kind of anchor point or as if by begging me with her gaze she can keep her composure enough to follow my order well.

I’m breathing hard and grinning down at her seemingly before she’s even really started, drawn into the sex despite the exhaustion I can feel clawing at me now that it knows there’s a bed presumably right on the other side of this door.

Fuck oh fuuck fuuuck don’t cum, don’t cum, nnf...fuck fuck fuck pound Master just like this see I remember I know what you like hehe ooh you like that yes please do keep grinning like you’re gonna eat me, that makes easier to not cum NOT, hehe yeah now we know why I’ve got super-strong kegels, don’t we? 

Eep fuck don’t cum, don’t cummm...mmmff dammit your thumb in my mouth and your other hand feeling me up like that doesn’t make this easier, yes my breast is all taut squished between us dammit I was doing so good ingoring the way your muscles feel on my nipples when we’re all nectary like this.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Concentrate and fuck.

Hah. Master’s already about to cum. Okay, don’t cum self, concentrate, he’s throbbing, wait until I taste it...

nnnf will not come

...aaand NOW UNNFF YUM—

—and she _sucks_! As soon as the come bursts from my tip, she sets her face and stops licking at my thumb as it explores her mouth and nestles her hips onto me and then the slippery soft inside of her cunt has clamped around and she’s somehow sucking, pulling the come out of me and drinking it down as I pump it into her...

Vision blurs and it comes to me as I subside that I’ve been crying out my pleasure, loud and full-voiced as she draws every last drop from me, pulling orgasm along with come until I’m finally, totally, wholly spent, wrung out and panting, looking down into a face that looks back at me with a naughty, slightly intimidated, sweet satisfaction.

Mmmfff so good did I do good Master?

“Good...”

Pant.

“...girl.”

Pant.

Hehe. I please Master. Purrrrr...

Boo, no more thumb? Oh. Heh. I know how this feels.

The vibration of her purring is almost too much to stand with my cock still hard after an orgasm this intense. Slowly, savoringly, I withdraw, lifting her off me and placing her on her feet in front of me as I step back from the door, never taking my eyes off hers.

She sort of sways on her feet, loopy with the intensity I’ve just pumped into her, looking at me questioningly and then—

Oooh fuck oof hehe clack against the door with my horns ooh fuck your hand is so big and heavy between my breasts holding me down do you like how they kind of flow around it mmm I do...

The pendant is warm with our body heat, a hard shape under my fingers bringing a simple realization:

“You’re not naked. My pets go naked.”

Okay Master...

I cup the pendant and undo one side of the leather thong that ties it about her neck, pulling it free, and her eyes follow it, wondering.

“Does this mean something?”

“Love. Means I’m yours if you can put it on or off me, it’s like the beginning of a collar. I put it on when I left to get you and I havne’t been able to get it off since.”

Something powerful, another strand of connection, thick and heavy, snaps into the leash as I pull the pendant away from her and tie it onto Cleavage’s strap.

“I do love you. That’s why I claim you.”

Purrr...

“There we are. Properly naked at last and all mine. You feel it, don’t you?”

Her hands have risen to her throat, feeling the place where the pendant sat, and there’s something new in her expression, just a little helpless and vulnerable.

So naked. I’d gotten so used to it...

Oooof!

Unff, Master’s hand back on me pushing me against the wall, mmmff, other thumb in my mouth, boo, oh, other hand on my breast oooh it’s warm and...please...squeeze...YUS...squeeeze ooh so tight nnf it feels so cool pushing between your fingers like that...down...running, ooh, down my...tummy...nnff, soo slow please oh please oh pleeeeeeaasee FUCK MMMH okay I hope my hips moving while you finger me is okay because I NEED to be TOUCHED god it burns everywhere your fingers aren’t “OOOHHH...”

Her pleased eyes widen and snap back to mine from where she’s been watching my hands on her the moment the sound escapes her lips, but I don’t relent, savoring instead the growing surprise on her face as she tries to control her voice and obviously fails. She start to raise her hands to clap them to her mouth, but I shake my head fractionally and she stops.

“Arms by your sides, palms flat against the door.”

Okay. Ohh but “...unnnnhh...”

“You can’t control it, can you?”

Nnnff...shake shake...

“...oooh...ss...sorr...UNH!”

When she tries to form the word, I shift from stroking and exploring the folds of her lips to give her clit a tender but solid squeeze, breaking the words from her lips.

“You’re my instrument, little toy. I play you, and you make...”

I shift my attention to her clit, working it round and round with two fingers, feeling my own eyes narrow involuntarily at the way it slides wetly over them, finding myself surpressing an urge to lick my lips and then letting it happen, the expression of hunger having the expected effect on my pet as she struggles to control _something_ but now I can see how she thrums with tension and I’m pulling. Rhythmically. At. Her. Clit. Runnning. My. Fingers. Up...

“OOOOOHH FUUUUUCK AAH”

“...music.”

And it almost is like I can play her orgasm, her scream changing, resistance to this long since abandoned, as I work her clit and then finally when her trembling and pleading eyes tell me that part of the orgasm is over shifting down and sliding my massive fingers - even my hands are bigger, I think - inside her, cupping her cunt and pulling against her G-spot so that she writhes and unconsciously seizes my arm with both hands to steady herself against this new assault as I now squeeze the last dregs of passion out of her...

“...UNH” MMmmf kiss oooh tongue yeah explore me deep at both ends MMF.

Boo.

Pant. Pant.

A panting moment of passion, eyes locked, when I break the kiss, and then it’s over and I’m taking my hands off her.

“Now, step aside and kneel at my feet, toy.”

Yes Master. Out of way. Down.

Oh, hi reflected people. How long have you been watching us I wonder?

Pet sinks into a traditional slave pose beside me, out of way of the door.

There’s a handle on the door, a big iron ring that wasn’t there before...beneath the surface of the mirror.

But I’ve seen that trick. And I’ve learned a bit about claiming things tonight - if I can make that car listen, not even my car, I can make the home Sade Hall is offering me listen: This place is my home, it just doesn’t know it yet.

Remembering the gates, and the ripple of life as I first touched the rock - touching it with my pet, but that’s touching by me at this point - I plunge my hand through the surface, and sure enough it yields like water, the stone feeling hard and slick as it envelops my hand, but allowing me through.

There’s a quiet gasp from behind us and I see a handful of onlookers, stopped to watch us play, silenced when I look back at them even though I’m curious instead of annoyed.

The ring is cool and smooth when I take hold of it, and when I pull it rises out of the surface, popping into place as a proper part of the door, and then stops, stuck...oh. I push, and with a quiet sound of parting stone, perfectly lubricated, the door swings inward into comforting darkness.

Raising pet by a horn, I sweep her into my arms, push the door the rest of the way with a foot, and step inside.

The rocks clatter to the floor, their task complete, as soon as we cross the threshold, but the leash stays in place, a part of pet and I now. The exhaustion and overwhelm pet’s nectar has been keeping at bay far after I should have collapsed breaks over us like a wave, making my steps feel unsteady, making reality seem to swim before me. I think pet feels it too, the way she hangs limply in my arms, happy but utterly spent.

When I step forward, the door glides shut behind me and I realize that I’ve automatically nudged it with my heel.

Oh my fuck. We’re here. I made it. I did it. I made it home with my Master. Just a few more steps to bed...so tired...I wonder what it’s like to sleep safe...

The first room seems to be some kind of antechamber, small and passage-like with seating of some type but I’ve staggered through and into a place that feels more like a living room or dungeon - it’s hard to tell exactly through the mask of exhaustion and utter darkness lit only by pet’s lights - but also contains doors, and the doors stand open and mercifully the first one I try is the bedchamber.

There’s more than one bed - a large main one on the ‘floor’, five-sided, five-postered, and around it on the walls of the pentagonal room are what seem sort of like secondary beds, hung like paintings but if I know the hall with gravity of their own so that their occupants would become art for the inhabitants of the main bed. The place is rife with details - art and carvings and the hall’s ubiquitous imagery, but I process none of it, utterly focused on the main bed.

Only pet’s body sliding against mine, wet with nectar, slows me enough to make me pull the sheet from one of the secondary beds - it collapses to the floor suddenly, gravity changing, when it comes free - set pet to her unsteady feet, and dry us both, rubbing away the nectar as best I can. She helps, weakly, clearly feeling the same massive adrenaline crash I do. The sword gets in the way and I doff it, propping it on end against the bedside table whose nature I’m too tired to process except that I think it has drawers, and then finding myself as naked as her we’re staggering, climbing, falling into the impossibly soft and comforting main bed, drawing back the covers and crawling between them.

“Ooooooh coo...”

Pet wraps around me as soon as my head hits the pillow, sliding an arm under my body as I lie on my back, head resting on my shoulder so her horn just encircles it, and before I can respond to her coo of relief, we both drop to the oblivion of a deep, dreamless, happy sleep.


	20. Wake the Cutie

Ooooh my FUCK. Ooh my fuck I had no idea it was possible to be this horny. Please oh please wake up and feed me, Master, you smell like heaven...

Wait, no, I have to do it, I can climb on you again like in your room except this time we’ll get to actually fuck instead of running from perfekti. Just have to get myself out from under...nnnnnnnnnnnnfff...fuck. Guess I’m snuggling till you wake up...

Oh well, this is comfy and I’m safe and with my Master and, coo, ppuuuuurrrr...oops, hehe. Eep?

Purring draws me out of sleep, breaking open some powerful, rambling, impossible sex dream about angels and open so that my whole body seems to pound with lust. It’s going to be one of those horny days where every sense is heightened and made lustful - my bed feels like a silk featherbed - and I feel like come is leaking out of my seams I’m so full of...oh.

Purring.

Flowers, candy, sex.

A soft arm, struggling to free itself from beneath me. A horn, crooked around my shoulder, just grazing me with the tip as the softness of her hair and warmth of her breath shift against me, as her breasts enfold my side.

There are worse things in the world than waking up beside an actual, literal sex fiend.

“You’re real.”

Dammit purring, quit! We woke Master!

But I’m so happy.

Grin? Eep?

She shrinks a bit into herself when I look, clearly having not meant to wake me, then returns when I don’t growl, smiling hopefully and lustfully.

We’re in silver sheets, silken and shining, like sleeping in textile mercury.

There’s light, but I’m not looking beyond the bed yet because I’ve slept and woken and all of this is still here and _she’s still here_.

And purring mightily. I get the impression her tail would lash if it weren’t encased in bedclothes and still clutched it my hand. I—

“Climb up and get on my cock and fuck me. Now.”

As soon as I stir, my body wakes the rest of the way, and each and every cell registers loudly that it will literally explode if I don’t have sex _instantly_. I’m overloaded, overflowing, so horny I swear I can actually taste the come that needs to get out of me. 

The question of oral or cunt is made by the simple expedient of being able to kiss her if she rides me and thereby have her mouth and cunt at the same time. Remembering sweetly her obedient question last time I gave such an order: “I want your pussy.”

Puuuurrrrrr yes _Master_ omifuck I’m hungry. Yay breakfast. Okay, letting me up, climb up—

OOH. What the...oooh. fuck fuck fuck they’re gonna pop so _heavy_ eep oh my fuck YUS FINALLY!

Okay. Carefully. Don’t wanna leak, don’t wanna be slow when Master’s talking like _that_. Master’s letting me up, pull my arm out, start climbing...

I have to gasp at pet’s motion - even though she’s just climbing moving carefully (stiff from her exertions yesterday?) out from under me and moving to straddle me - in my current state the sensation is dizzying, overwhelming.

Oooooh my fuck you’re horny, this is gonna be like fucking a star. Yum.

Okay, up, get myself against your cock ooh I’m nice and wet guess I’ve been having sweet dreams. Careful, straddle, now sliiiiiide up your nice hard shaft ooh you like that don’t you up and—eep OOOGOD

Why is she so slow? She looks awake, energetic, but she moves slowly, gingerly, as if carrying something delicate. When she straddles me and slides her cunt lusciously, slowly, carefully up my shaft to impale herself, I can take it no longer and lift her by the waist the rest of the way and plunge her down to my hips when hers reflexively shift to catch my tip between her lips and plunge her down.

“UNGH!” Ooof eep don’t leak neep

Master’s hand on my horn, pulls me down, get kissed. Carefully. God damn, you’re so horny it smells like...ooh. Omifuck it doesn’t just smell like cum, it’s cum, how do you have cum in your mouth mmmmmmmffffffff yumm did you somehow no this is definitely you just a little but yum yes come on eat me up see how my lips are all puffy and slippery and soft kiss me real good so I can taste some more of your nectar that SUDDENLY TASTES LIKE CUM OMIGOD CUM AND MASTER KISSES GOOD MORNING TO ME EVEN IF MY TITS ARE ABOUT TO EXPLODE 

“MMMmmmmmffffff....”

Okay, we need to do something about this, I think they really might explode, and I’m proud, and um...fuck, I’ll die if I stop tasting this, but...fuck...mmmffff...

Okay, really, you can do it, self.

After a glorious while of kissing, one of her hands finds mine at her waist and squeezes, so I break the kiss by pulling her off by a horn to where she looks at me hungrily...and then feel her breasts move against me with the motion, not just soft and silken but _wet_ , hard nipples sliding in something slick.

“Are you lactating?”

Nod nod nod.

That same mixture of pride and humiliation as when her nectar makes a mess.

“Is it good for me to drink?”

Memories drop into place, a moment my mind skated over a mention of this because it was ‘too weird’. Now, it’s just arousing.

Nod nod nod.

“I made you breakfast in bed, Master.”

Oh my god.

Laughing, I shift my grip to her ribcage, raise her partway up my shaft to reach (realizing in the process that we haven’t even started actually fucking yet), take a nipple that’s wet and dripping something white and warm-smelling between my lips and—

Ooooh my god, your voice makes my whole body vibrate, I didn’t think...ooooh FUUUUCK UNFF fuck this is amazing oh god keep sucking keep sucking keep sucking suck it out of me nnnnnffff.....

Someone in the distance is moaning absolute ecstasy, their voice muffled by...oh.

When coherent conscious thought returns it’s like descending from heaven, like for a moment my whole existence was warmth and comfort. Succubus milk is liquid comfort, there is no other way to describe it. It’s thick and warm and milky and sweet and tastes like her flowers-candy-sex nectar but in a softer mode but none of this _describes_ the experience of drinking, a feeling like what’s flowing down my throat is instead enveloping me...

Gasp. Gasp gasp pant oh my fuck it’s gonna make me cum I’m gonna cum from being drunk unf...

Her breath grows ragged as I drink, and when in a single draught I’ve drained the one breast I’m reminded of the orgasm fruit in _Perelandra_ except instead of the little aesop about restraint and ‘enough’ all I can think as I lick the surface of her breast clean is _there’s another one_.

...pant...

Our eyes lock for an instant when I release her nipple, my cock pounds, her cunt throbs, we both smirk at her lopsided bust, one full one empty, and then I fall on the other nipple...

...UNHH ohgod OOOOH omigod fuck drink yes drink fuck no stopping this it’s like you’re just pulling it out of me ohfuck ohfuck oh fuck ooooOOOOHH

Omigod I have so many ways to cum this is amaziiiing...oh GOD I need to fu...YUS I’m already full of cock just have to fuck the cock unf unf unf c’mon hips oooh MYFUCK nf unf c’mon...ooh throbbing but not my throbbing MMMmmmff Master nice and solid inside me and there’s LOTS and it’s HOT _glug_

So much too much I’ve taken too much and I’ll burst but I can’t stop drinking this and that’s the pleasure of it...

The orgasm, both our orgasms - pet’s arching and fucking don’t go unnoticed - penetrate the warm river of heaven I’m drinking, as if the two pleasures are somehow orthogonal, one not _better_ than the other, just different. When I finally drain her other breast and withdraw, she’s intent, hungrily fucking me, legs pulling for purchase at my sides, trying to pull my hips into hers.

Puuurrrr purr purrr c’mon fuck me deep pump this into me so I don’t have a choice nnfff...puuuuurrrrr...

When we’re finished, pet’s left straddling me, breathing hard with me, mouth slightly opened by the fullness of my cock inside her, my motions and breathing evident on her face. Draining her breasts has left me pleasantly full - her milk is nectar, I can feel it working, but it lingers inside me so that I feel fed instead of being absorbed even as I swallow it - and they’ve returned from being comically large and heavy to their usual just-this-side of ungainly scale and gravity-defying bounce.

“Good morning, pet.”

Good-nf. Purrrr...

Yes Master, my breasts are for touching. Ooohh fuuUUck they’re all sensitive now is this how they’re going to be? Yumm...

“Now, clean us up. It won’t hurt you to drink your own milk, will it?”

Shake shake. Nnnoooo? Blush...

“And it gets tasty sitting on me just like your other nectar, huh.”

Nod nod.

God damn that smells good.

Hands full of a wonderful softness that breathes and coos and looks down at me out of happy eyes, content.

My chest is still covered in milk from where the pressure of my embrace squeezed it out of her before, and she looks down at it when I give the order, unable to hide her hunger, cutely humiliated by her own messiness.

For a moment I wonder why she doesn’t comply, then regain myself enough to realize my hands are still on her breast and side, holding her upright, and I reluctantly release her: there’s still a sea of pleasure to float on as she leans down, shifting on my shaft and fucking slowly, intently, tail raised and lashing in time with the motion of her hips while she licks my chest clean with a hot slippery tongue. Small hot soft hands paw my chest, moving here and there to steady her but rather not kept to herself.

...mmmmffff...purrrrrr...

“Do you like the muscles you gave me?”

PURR

She’s thorough, especially immediately on and around my own now surprisingly-sensitive and oddly ticklish-sexual nipples, and I have a freakish moment of fearing that _I_ give milk now before it’s obvious that she’s just having fun.

Okay now fucking kiss me before I die of smelling cum I can’t eat.

When she finishes, the thin nectar of her mouth already absorbing away into my flesh leaving me clean and dry, she looks up at me, face burning with a new sort of pleading animal hunger, eyes shouting ‘kiss me!’, and when I do move to bring her to my lips, she fairly leaps, nearly (but not quite) off my cock, seizing my head in her hands and drinking deep, exploring my mouth with her exquisite just-out-of-control lust...

...mmf, boo, my milk washed it away...no, wait, there’s still a little yum slurp...

...and with my cock still inside her it’s impossible to make out without also fucking and soon our hips are moving together again, a proper rhythmic pounding fuck this time, pet’s tail lashing and occasionally wrapping itself around one hip or the other to caress me, her hands and tail and mouth on mine and cunt around my cock and breasts and thighs embracing all melting into an overwhelming, lovely blur anchored in place by burning purple eyes I break our kiss to stare into as the pressure builds in...me...

...unnff yuum gulp oh Master.

Pant.

I love you, Master. Purrrr....

The soul-breaking need I woke with is slaked, but I’m still hard and she’s still wet and impaled and smiling at me and soft and luscious and the vibration of her purring is...

...puuurrrr...

Whoop! Okay, rolled on my back, guess we’re gonna...mmmff...ooooh Master’s heavvyyy now, yum, crush me...c’mon, make it hurt, I need some SM now that we’re home and I can still breathe right now...

The trick to this move is that you need an incredibly long cock and a partner who can be impaled past their belly button to take it. As it is, she's halfway up my shaft when rolling over hammers us back together with a mutual 'whoof'--

Hurt me. Please hurt me Master please rape me please please understand you know what we are...no fuck it fucking fight me come on WAKE UP!

The impact is like a violent, hard, kiss, tingling pleasure radiating through me from my pubic bone inward.

Immediately I rise up and drive myself against her again, harder, and watch her face break open as we collide.

OOF OUCH YUS!

I've struck _something_ because her eyes flash and (literally?) light up and she grabs me by the hips and starts trying to force me off but can't get purchase.

Fangs bared, fire in her eyes, and I remember:

_I'm a monster. I wanna be your monster._

This isn't _satisfying_. Images flit through my mind as if bubbling through a crack in what I thought was the floor of my soul and I withdraw, rise off her and release her.

Huh? Master?

"Run."

What? OH! EEEP bound off the bed along the side of it don't trip on sheet yay soft floor--

She rockets out from under me and bounds off the huge bed and I count to three which gets her as far as the door to the bedroom but I'm right behind and grab her by a trailing wing to haul her stumbling back--

WHOAH eep FUCK Master okay get stable wait where is the floor going oh I'm picked up WHOOF that was hard what fuck how hard did you throw me down to make the mattress feel hard okay up and bound EEP!

I throw her over my shoulder light as a ragdoll and then hurl her to the bed intending to splay her on the edge of it and fuck her there but she instantly bounces up as if really made of the silicone her flesh reminds me of sometimes and flips around to crawl away from me across the bed so I seize her lashing tail and haul her back toward me as I get onto my own knees on the bed and position myself. I see her go to drop flat and avoid getting fucked and find my hands suddenly on the fold of her hips, fingers writhing in between thigh and flank where they join and then I'm just lifting her up and sliding her onto my cock, comfortably and slowly. She still drops her shoulders to the bed but all this accomplishes is to drive her cunt more against me as I slide her across the slippery sheets. She tries to kick, but I'm already between her legs and forcing them behind me and--

NNF OMIFUCK FUCK ME FUCK OUCH YES!!

Her tail comes up as if to strike so I snatch it out of the air--

HAH yus struggle just have to get--nf--

She twists her hips sideways, trying to squirm off my cock, but I'm quick enough to grab her again and slam her hips back into mine so that in the tall mirrored headboard I can see her mouth and eyes open wide with the impact.

WHOOF HOLY FUCK nnf okay then KICK nf ouch Master's hands are so big holding me I can't get my legs forward! NNnnnnf!!! Can't grab the sheets too slippery NNNNNF1!!

I wouldn't even have to thrust. Her struggling moves her cunt gloriously on me, rubs soft thighs hard against me as she tries to squeeze me out from between her legs, but I still take a carefully solid hold and thrust, hard and fast, pushing her onto my cock as hard as I can with each stroke, watching her face in the mirror.

Nnnf nonono NO WAY YOU ARE NOT NNNNF fuck come ON fight self how do get nnf wings flap flap reach fuck they don't reach nnf!

She rises up to strike at me with her wings so I quickly release one hip and dart in to grab her hair and haul her the rest of the way off the bed so that she's arched against me and carry on thrusting as her wings flap uselessly beside me keeping the exertion from making me sweat. Our reflections are both grinning savagely, lust and fight mixed together, and the sight of her writhing body displayed struggling uselessly in the mirror to not be fucked tips me to orgasm as our eyes lock through the reflection...

NNNF fight FIGHT OUCH PAIN FIILL ME PAIN FINALLY OUCH FIGHT JERK LET ME GO LET ME GO LET ME GO NNNNNNNNNNF!! Fuck Master's cumming gotta escape gotta escape nnnnnf omifuck that tastes so good nnf fight no FIGHT self nnf c'mon gotta get...fuck...hips what are you doing widening close...omifuck there it is fuck guess i lose glug drink up the cum Master gave me yum pant yum.

Whoah fuck whoah drinking that did something what did it do?

"Will you be good, if I let you go?" We're panting together, and she's gone slack and her face is soft, eyes wide with exertion and something pleading or helpless, but I haven't loosened my grip.

nod nf ouch hehe

I let one beat, two, three go by, and slowly let her go.

Wait eep don't let me fall!

She's still limp in my grip and starts to slide to my right, falling, so I grab her gently under the right arm and on the left hip, lift her off my cock, and guide her down to the butt-on-heels kneel she seems to be trying to get to.

Whoah oof okay i can barely move please don't drop me Master!

Okay there's slave pose that's good now if i can just...nf...

She lolls back against me, eyes dreamy, and I stroke her hair, holding her upright.

You did it. You actually went through with it and raped me. You did it Master i'm so impressed i thought this would take you months to be ready for well good because i really needed this.

Pant. Okay so can i not move now or what what is going on i feel like i'm going to melt. Heh i not I i was wondering when that was going to happen. Yup can't move Master is holding me up i'll definitely just flop if you let go Master. i guess i'm good and raped heh but what's happening oh well i feel good and Master is definitely in control now so purr.

She's purring, but seems totally limp, weight resting on my hands under her arms, to the point that I sit down carefully in the bed behind her and carefully lean her back to nestle her head in my chest. She's breathing softly, and coos when I resume stroking her hair, but she's clearly immobile other than my managing of her position. Even her tail lies motionless and limp on the bed.

When in new bondage struggle so nnnf come on let's move something okay hands nothing doing how about my head i could look up at Master nnnnnnnnnnnnnf nope fuck i can't get it to move even though Master could do it fuck am i just a doll now well maybe Master will like that maybe that's what the wyrdstones wanted to show me Master liking the idea of me being dolled it could be fun it'd be like bondage way more intense than anything i could get tied into that's kind of a hot thought. i'll miss fucking and kissing back though, but mouth isn't happening either except that i cooed and i'm breathing.

We sit there for a while, recovering, watching each other's eyes in the mirror, my arm around her middle pushing her breasts up and out a bit to make them even more impossible-looking and my other hand still stroking her hair. Her eyes narrow in happiness and she smiles when I kiss the top of her head.

This is weird i don't mind smiling for a kiss on the head i did want to but....oh, DUH! i can only respond now, not do anything on my own! That should be fine, but why? i need to be Master's but i can't wait to find out what is going on with this and the pillow-stuff and having to call Master Master maybe i can ask nope gotta wait well okay i'll just wait. Waiting feels easy right now. i guess i should get used to that if i'm gonna be a doll mostly now.

"I love you. Good job fighting me. You really tried to stop me, didn't you?"

Nod nod purring love you too Master HEY i NODDED! Definitely it's responding only now. That's going to be intense but this seems so permanent it doesn't feel like a dismissal at ALL. Wait this is the most obvious ever, you just--

"Let's get out of bed and see this new house of ours. Up."

Wait i can't...oh. Something...okay i can get up stand up all wobbly on the bed now but can i...nf nope wow it's like i'm on rails but i can decide how fast i go. No i can do more i can up and twirl! Whoop hehe that made me teetery this bed is really bouncy eep don't fall self. There up, Master.

Rising brings her ass up past my face for a nectar-scented close-up view through her thighgap and just as I'm about to reach out and grab it she pirouettes around to face me, putting her cunt exactly level with my face and before I know what I'm doing I've seized her hips and am having a very aggressive lick of her cunt, making out and sucking to pull flesh and nectar into my mouth, drinking deeply.

"Oooooh ooeah oh..." fuck that's completely naked guess responding means responding well that's how i feel from being eaten out by Master but fuck this is the most helpless naked feeling fuckity fuck eep...

We're near the edge of the massive, five-sided bed, and I'm on her path to the floor, so I rise and bound off the bed, finding the floor soft-ish with a mat of some kind I had ignored while chasing her. Glancing down shows me an expanse of brilliantly-colored satiny fabric embroidered or printed with images of feminine people entwining and fucking by various methods, many in bondage of some kind, some in the middle of some scene of domination or another. I step back from the bed and gesture for my pet to follow.

Okay i can choose how to do this as long as i do it i think so will you let me do this as sexy as i can whatever binding or whatever you are yes you will i can sway. My. Hips. And. Dance. Off the bed bouncy sway bound down to the floor by Master grin.

She makes it such a show I almost order her back onto the bed so I can see her do it again, putting one foot in front of the other and bouncing as she walks to set her breasts in motion, and ending with a hop off the high bed (just the right height, I note, feeling my cock respond to her show and thinking about it) into a twirl she comes out of grinning.

Mmmf fuck okay this is a kiss for real yum open for Master wow it's intense not being able to kiss back at ALL this is wild...i still think your tongue is getting bigger or something.

She yields to the kiss almost actively, opening and moving her head to give me access, but is totally passive, counter to her usual devouring way. I talk without breaking the kiss: "Kiss me back."

Fuck yes please Master mmf tongue hehe Master's tongue is slippery on mine. Kiss...kiss back mmf okay....

She complies instantly as if unleashed, but only with her mouth and head, and I fancy I can feel the vibration of pent-up energy in her body as she holds still...

I break the kiss to talk this time: "Do you feel different since we had sex just now?"

Nod nod nod nod nod

Her expression and nodding are urgent, vigorous. "What's different, pet?"

"i can't move or do anything unless i'm responding to something you did or following an order, Master."

She seems completely nonchalant about it, other than the urgency that I know what's happening. "Do you know what's happening to you?"

"Umum...i have this superhot reocurring dream where i get raped and then am a doll. i think we just did that, Master. It's always you in the dream and i think it's like when you force me like that i get fucked with whatever you were trying to get me to do while you came in me so i'm guessing this time i was fighting and you wanted me to be still so you could fuck me and when i drank up your cum after you got it into me i drank _that_  and now that's what i'm doing."

Words roll off me again, a feeling I'm starting to recognize. It's okay, they'll be back.

"You don't look upset about this. Are you?"  


shru-nf. Oh. Shake shake. "It'd feel kind of lame if getting raped didn't like, do something scary to me, Master. After all those dreams i knew something was going to happen once we set the scene that way but i didn't know what."

That word isn't working properly right now but there are more urgent things to attend to. "Do you know if it's permanent?"

Shake shake.

"What happens in the dream after you're a doll?"

"Umum...usually i wake up and make myself cum until i'm too crampy to go on."

"This turns you on." It's not a question: her cunt was dripping-full of nectar before, and I can see it glistening between her legs now, and fresh on her thighs.

Nod nod yup.

"Take a step toward me."

She complies, swaying her hips like she's dancing, bringing us close enough to kiss. I reach down and tilt her head by the chin up to look at me, plant a kiss on her unresisting lips, and then suddenly reach out and tickle her flanks mercilessly.

"EEEP eep EEP EEP FUCK EEEP AAAH!"

She wiggles a bit but doesn't jump back or squirm away. Only her face responds, screwing up with the overwhelm of the sensation and crying out and whimpering in frustration, but she stays standing where she is and even doesn't shift her gaze away from where I've put it.

"You really can't move at all unless I tell you to now."

Nod nod eeeeeeeeeep help this is for real i've lost control of my...oh. Not yours anymore, silly slut. You gave it away he just hadn't claimed it until now for real.

Hot. Fuck i am so scared.

She's panting and looks a bit pitiful, so I caress the side of her face and give another kiss to her forehead, then take another step back to look at her. She's stuck looking up, and I realize stepping back is taking me into a brighter area of light so I step aside and gesture to the center of the glow.

"Stand there and pose for me while I think about what to do with this."

Okay walk over and let's come up with a good pose umum something subby but gotta stand so how about just arch my back a little and head down some and arms behind my back up like i'm in a boxtie. Oh and cunt out to go with the arched back...

Fuck i should have picked something easier!

My mind is racing, tangled. This was a fantasy, too, one I didn't even know how to have about a girl handing me a pendant that represented her free will and then...something. I never found out what, but, this is evidently the answer -- and it's colliding with another fantasy, one even older, about taking my new wife into our hotel on the first night of our honeymoon, locking all her clothes away in the suitcase to which only I had the key, and Telling Her The Rules.

In both fantasies there was something huge, something titanic, implied that I never dared say. I walk around her, inspecting, sizing her up in the way I didn't quite dare do as we enchanted my sword. _What am I going to do with you?_

The words try to stick in my throat but it's slippery with nectar: "Well, now you're stuck. You wanted to be mine, you said I could do whatever I wanted with you, and here you are, and there's no way out ever again. How does it feel?"

"So hot, Master." Ulp. But so hot.

"Good. Down on your knees."

Down i go well i can do this my way too cool.

"Put your thighs together so they rub and catch that drop that's about to let go."

Fuck they're already really slippery and i can feel the drop moving fuck i need to touch myself...

Taking a horn in my right hand, with my left I open her mouth and then reach inside to press down her unresisting tongue. I stroke her hair back from her face where it's fallen and position my cock, then slide her slowly onto it and press her face against my mound. Her nose is a warm soft nub against my soft flesh and I can feel the lashes of her still-open eyes brush my mound gently.

Mmmmf oh fuck i can't lick or anything can i swallow yes i can swallow there it goes down deep...

"Look up at me. Keep my gaze as much as you can."

Neep okay peer up i hope these are good blowjob eyes Master....

It's not like the other blowjobs she's given me. Her mouth is as passive as her cunt, yielding but unmoving, though her throat still swallows at me when I penetrate it. I move her slowly on and off my cock, coming just to the end before plunging back into the helpless warmth of her mouth each time. When I come, I slam her home, pressing her face into my mound careful of eyes I'm not sure she can close and she swallows me hungrily, drinking every drop - not that she has a choice.

Glug fuck that did something too wait no it just fed me phew i'm kind of scared by this. That was intense, though. So helpless.

I don't pull back immediately when I'm done coming, despite the increasing oversensitivity of her swallowing on my head. There's something to do first. "Way back in Limbo you said you wanted to be my love-slave and fucktoy. Here you are. Do you feel like a toy?"

Nod nf umum can't talk thumbs up for yes how about that Master?

"Good." I can see she's having a hard time keeping me down, too, despite herself: this is the longest I've held her against my mound like this. I hold it a bit longer, to make the point of her helplessness, and she writhes a bit in my hand, body beginning to rebel.

Fuck eep this is getting intense Master your cock is so huge it almost hurts oof squirm no please squirm body....

I hold on a bit longer, and then withdraw.

Gaaasp whew oof pant yay i can pant pant pant wow oof.

She's looking up at me with a still open mouth, so I close it gently, and tell her: "Lick your lips."

Oooh there's some cum on them "mmmm..." liiiick fuck this makes my reactions SO NAKED...

She licks slowly, relishingly, lovingly with furrowed brows and half-mast eyes cooing along with her voice. Instead of restraining her face it's as if this binding has stripped it of what little guardedness and modesty she had.

Yum. Purr.

Her lips glisten with fresh nectar from being licked, and I have to kiss them. Getting to one knee so I can take the kiss while she kneels, I cup the base of her skull, wind my hand through her hair as I do it, and pull her up a bit and toward me.

Nnnf whoah whee floating to Master that's fun i feel like i'm just goo in your hands...

Our lips meet, warm and slick with nectar, but of course she can't open hers, so I kiss them outside top and bottom to get a taste of the soft flesh and nectar, and she moans in her throat to reply, breath from her nose hot on my face.

Omifuck Sade's Balls please...nnf YUS tongue open me open me oooh fuck yus tongue forcing my mouth open so big i'll just melt.

Her eyes are locked to mine and I realized I haven't released her from the order to follow my gaze - and don't want to. Her eyes narrow and then roll back a bit when I put one hand on her hip and squeeze a breast in the other until the soft flesh feels like it's overflowing my fingers, but I break the kiss anyway.

Boo!

Purring anyway.

Another thing to try: "When I kiss you, kiss me back, unless I tell you otherwise." Can she do rules this way?

Yus woo! Except....fuck this is confusing do i want to be allowed to kiss back or not?

Boo don't stop groping me to talk, you can grope and talk at the same time i'm not _that_  overwhelming, right?

Maybe. I feel _so_  sexy right now.

Withdrawing has left her mouth open just a bit and still glistening inside in the soft light. I regard it a moment, sliding my left hand down toward the crease between thigh and hip, then lower my head to kiss her and she responds as she's been doing since we met, following me fluidly in the dance of lips on lips. When I push my tongue into her, hers is there to embrace it hungrily, pulling, inviting.

She purrs furiously as we begin to make out, the buzz burning through my cock where it's squeezed between us.

Yummm come in here slurp hey i can control that can i give Master tongue mmf push yus yes i can push hehe fighting Master slip there ooh omifuck Master you are fucking _delicious_  i wonder how far down your throat i can get before you freak...oops pushed okay okay submit and follow Master penetrates me i get it mmf not complaining i just wanted to try that well soon you like my tail well enough.

"Ouch!" mmf hehe

A quick bite to her lower lip makes her jump just a little in my arms, then immediately go pliant again. Her body flows softly with my hands on her, responding, arching against me or pushing the breast or curve I find proudly into my hand but I don't feel like I'm either kissing or touching a puppet or robot: this is _her_ , unchanged from our interactions so far except that she's totally immobile when not responding to me, as if my touch unlocks the bondage she's in just enough to--

"MMMmmmmmmfff gasp oooh..."

_Lyra. It’s the Infernal word for...instrument._   


_Oh._  Obviously. And she needs me to play her now, or she will be as passive as a silent guitar.

Fuuuuck that's fun grab my ass like that more please....boo!

"Put your hands on my biceps and keep them there."

Hell the fuck yes i will touch you there Master grab grab grope grope YUS it lets me grope wait obviously this is definitely having my hands on your biceps...now how about some of the other muscles wanna order me there please Master?

Small, soft, _hungry_  hands take hold of my arms and I use the bracing this gives her to press one hand onto a breast and slide the other down down slowly down across her navel to the fold of her thigh and mound and then onto and into her cunt.

"Aaah...mmmf...." wow fuck yum more fingers please

It's slick and soft and yields like I'm plunging my fingers into warm water and yes of course we're going to fuck again _right now_.

"...ooh..."

Speaking without really stopping making out, I command: "Get down on your hands and knees."

Okay how am i going to make this hot wait giggle i know climb climb climb...

She hand-over-hands her way down my arms and then down my flanks, backing away on her knees with swaying hips and lashing tail to make room for herself, until she's down in The Position with her head raised to still peer into my eyes expectantly.

Okay right now i'm glad to be so flexible...purr come on fuck me that's what we're doing right i wonder which hole i get to please you with this time?

I tousle her already-utterly-disheveled hair and rise to make my way around behind her, grinning as she twists around to follow my gaze still.

Grin. Hehe i can grin back at Master!

Nnnnf. That's all, though.

Her cunt, when it comes into view, is dripping a long stretch of nectar all the way to the floor, and her thighs and taint shine with a thick coat of it while her cunt itself seems almost submerged. 

"OOooh mmm" coo "aah!" fuck omifuck YUS please please YUS i love you too Master...

The scent here is overpowering and I'm on my own knees and bending down to take a drink long before I've thought about it consciously. Sex, candy, and the smell of whatever unearthly flower she's scented after permeate me as her flesh surrounds me while I lick and suck at her cunt, delving deep, selfish and hungry, pulling one big swallow after another out of her until she's just slick and wet instead of overflowing, listening to the music I'm playing on her all the way as she gasps and moans, head twisted around to be ready for my gaze when it returns.

"Ooooh...." Nnnf fuck can't change angles come on please just a little...higher...nnf...

I can feel it soaking into my face and doing...something...as I rise again.

Boo! That felt awesome and i was about to cum!

And rise again. It's been only a few minutes, and the orgasm was as satisfying as any she's given me, but I'm throbbing hard and I can tell it'll be easy to come again and feel as if it's been days or weeks since I was able to come.

Oh. That's Master's cock against my lips okay fuck me NOW please oh please struggle i want it so bad...come on you look like you want to eat me for lunch...wait why are you pushing me away oh you're following but this is not getting your cock inside me Master come on...

I'm about to thrust in but sudden insight checks me and I push her hips forward with one hand on a back-stretched calf to keep her from thinking I want her to crawl away from me. She complies fluidly, but even peering back over one shoulder I can see the confusion on her face until I find the right position and, with my tip poised on her entrance and caught at the right angle by just barely not penetrating her, grasp her hips and pull her onto me in one slow smooth motion.

"Whooooo--UNF" hip contact smack hot. PURR.

She's like a toy, like an instrument, sounds in response to what I do but not _sound_ , just...her. I can play _her..._ and otherwise there's silence. I grind her hips against mine by pushing them with my hands, and she moans again, bare and full-voiced, but quiet.

Nnnnf fuck fucking fuck that feels amazing i love this. Use me, Master. Have me just how you want just that and nothing else i hope my moans please you Master. Fuck i feel it pushing your cock all around inside me hot Master.

I can see the intensity of having me inside her on her face, expression pleading with open mouth and half-mast eyes but furrowed, raised brows, and yet I can also see in an odd stillness the bondage holding her, keeping her from doing anything but revealing by sound and sight what I'm making her feel. She's totally passive, doesn't move a muscle except in response to my guiding hands and to express her responses to this. It's nothing like having her fuck me, even when she's been perfectly submissive. 

Omifuck fuck that's deep Master fucking FUCK ouchyum just pushed hard in HELP i NEED TO SQUIRM AAAH

Her face reveals the overwhelm when I stop grinding and just pull her as tight against my mound as I can and hold her there, mouth opening wide and eyes _almost_  screwing shut as if she's about to cry, but she doesn't, and I slide her off me again like she's a toy I'm masturbating with then pull her on again, cunt yielding and passive and realize she's been incredibly active even with this, clenching and sucking subtly to pull the come out of me as we fuck.

i'm...fuck unh...i'm your...HAH...grin hey i can grin if it's funny! OOhhh...

"Something funny?" I don't even slow down my rhythm.

"i'm...nnnf....your....ooh fuuuck....your fuck-doll Master i just realized that's why i have the UNF ooh silicone aaaaaah flesh mmmmm thing!" i don't know it makes me smile, okay? i like being this way let's keep going please Master.

Now i dare you to say the last part out loud, self FUCK OOH that was deep going faster now.

"I think you make a cute toy. I'll get you a nice figurine base and keep you on my shelf." Thank you, crack opening me to my real self for that comment.

PURRING nnnf PURRING nnnf PURRING NF!

It's _just_  like masturbating except that I'm not alone and someone else is feeling what I'm doing with myself from the other side...but that's somehow not just 'sex'. This is different.

I've been taking it slow, but I speed up a little now, feeling like it might be nice to come shortly, but I want something a little... _more._  Something to really honor that 'toy' comment.

She _really_  feels like one, in all but her reactions, right now. Except...

Whoof! Okay, head down on the mat fucking fucking fuck Sade's Balls that is deep now fuck....

I get a solid hold of her hips. "Go limp. No helping. You're a doll. Only move your face and voice and lungs until I say."

Neep fuck okay no Master's holding me up anyway i bet i could just hang from your cock Master.

She complies instantly, weight dropping into my hands.

Oh fuck this is so helpless eep SO HOT yum

There we are. I stroke urgent and fast, watching the results play beautifully across her open-mouth, screaming-aloud face, until I'm about to come.

Then I stop, balls deep. It takes a lot of concentration not to come just from the sensation of her around me.

Master? Boo i want cum!

"When I give an order, what is it like for you? Does it just happen?"

Pant pant NO FUCK ME MNRF! "i can decide how to do it and do that but it doesn't feel like i could disobey, Master."

Perfect. "Then fuck me until I come. As soon as you swallow, you're a doll again."

She's a toy, but she's a toy with the best action feature _ever_.

Fuck okay that's hot Master okay let's catch up on the fucking that hasn't been happening while you're talking pound pound pound oooh fuck YUS purr that's better pound POUND **POUND**!

As soon as the words are enough out of my mouth that she can understand she starts fucking urgently, driving herself against me and before I know it I've got her by the hair and am pulling her head up and back to arch her back (and wishing I had a mirror view of what must be happening with her breasts in front) and responding with my own driving rhythm of hips against hips, smacking obscenely in the dim purple light until heat seems to envelop my cock and the wave of pleasure breaks over me, tingling, as I come harder than I have since possibly the first orgasm here.

Right, I'd forgotten about edging and its effects since it became unnecessary to keep playing. Maybe it's not useless after all...

"Mmmmm...." Fuck oh yum YUM fuck okay self don't swallow no swallowing let's see what Master does with that.

Don't swallow don't swallow don't swallow don't swallow.

She pushes into me as much as she can do it over my pulling her onto me as I come, moaning out the taste, as I come--

Okay, here we go, come on willpower you can do it squeeze don't swallow you'll keep the whole load i know you will self. Nnnnnffff fuck!

\--and then promptly freezes in place as I finish coming.

Wait fuck OH NO NO NO no FUCK DAMMIT!

Swallow swallow swallow DAMMIT i can't swallow now!! Fuck!

NNNnnnnnnffff talk come on talk nope not the either fuck what if Master doesn't find out that'd....eep. Fuck omifuck fucking fuck SWALLOW cunt that's Master's cum i can't handle tasting that and not being able to get it into my heart RIGHT NOW so SWALLOW NNNF!

Safeword i should safeword no come on self you're not getting harmed...but...snif...i...please, please please PLEASE Master notice...

Except for her face, which is alive with frustration and desperation building quickly towards tears.

"Did you not swallow before I finished coming?"

nod nod nod nod

"What's happening to you now?"

"It tastes SO GOOD IT HURTS like literally i can't handle tasting this Master! i need to swallow but i can't now please Master tell me to swallow PLEASE?"

nnnf come on it'll...nf...Sade's Balls it just keeps getting hotter i NEED TO SWALLOW THIS IS MASTER'S CUM INSIDE ME THAT GOES IN MY HEART SWALLOW!

It really does look like she can't handle it, or won't be able to soon. Her eyes fight between screwing shut as if to cry and being forced open by the bondage to keep her gaze on me, and she's biting a lip in desperation, fangs digging stubbily into it.

...please...

Her pleading expression wins me over immediately, but we have to do this...the right way.

"When I tell you, you're going to slide off my cock, turn around, and kneel up to make out with me, during which you'll be allowed to touch or grope or kiss or even fuck me any way you want as much as you want. It'll be up to you when to do it, but you're still going to be a doll again when you swallow. Understand?"

nod nod Yes Master thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou

"Go."

Okay fuck squeeze hard so i don't lose any Master's cum is too precious to waste gotta drink every drop sliiiiiide nnnnnmmmmPOP OOF okay carefully now don't swallow don't--glug. FUCK! DAMMIT!

Fine glug pull nnnf guess that's it.

She drops limp almost before she's off my cock, and I barely catch her and lower her to the mat. "Did you get to drink it all?"

"Yes Master."

Her face is much relieved and has a bit of her normal afterglow satisfaction on it. Her head lolls back, but her eyes still follow me as much as they can.

Being rolled over...Master is so gentle, i love you Master...there, on my back now phew my tail isn't kinked just the rest of me hehe.

When she's on her back, I reach up and throw back the covers of the bed revealing a silky silver expanse of shining sheets, and slide my arms under her to lift and place her limp form in the bed - on her side so I can carefully fold her wings and position her tail so she can lie on her back, and then follow her onto the bed to sit beside her thighs.

You're spreading my legs? Nf hot you're so careful with me! Left leg spread, right leg spread, yes push more i'm that flexible see Master?

Air feels nice on my pussy.

Once I've got her positioned how I want, I put myself between her spread legs, lie on my stomach, and lick her cunt as all-encompassingly as I can, from the bottom just above her taint to dipping into the heady, delicious nectar inside her entrance and pulling a big swallow into my mouth, to running broadly over her outer lips and clit, listening to the music this plays on her the whole way.  


NNnnnnnff fuck i want to move with this "OOOooooh mmmm...." fuck again again again please again Master that was awesome dolled.

I pause a moment. I had a plan, but...

Okay so not being able to see your eyes means i can look around OH in case there's another way of seeing them okay can't see your eyes anywhere but those mirrors on the ceiling are giving me an amazing view of your ass as you...mm fuck yum...work me!

It just tastes too good. I'm going down on her, searching again for every drop of nectar to be found in the folds of her cunt, licking up and up just for the feeling of her soft smooth slippery flesh passing over my tongue and between my lips and enveloping my face when I press it into her mound.

Yus come on that's it just a little more NO nnf okay you came back whew come on...

When I've drunk...not my fill, but a lot, I set to work just playing with her, following lines of desire through the sounds that what I'm doing wring out of her.

Fuck omifuck please omifuck YUSS "AAAAAH!" fuck fuck fuck can't move it feels so weird like all tingly-hot through me oooh FUCK "AAH!" gasp gasp gasp "HHHAAAH! AAH! GAH!" Pant pant pant purr...

I only stop when it's clear from her voice she can't take any more, and say with my lips brushing hers: "So I guess coming counts as responding to me. That makes sense."

i guess so OMIFUCK pant...

I lean down again and pull a big drink of the nectar coming has squeezed out of her, finding it different, almost intoxicating, tinged with the intensity of her orgasm.

Nnnf gaaasp fuck fuck me...please if i can't move i need to FEEL...

More, another drink. Hands under her ass to angle her toward me, I bury my face again, drinking the feeling of penetrating her with my tongue as much as her nectar. Maybe I will just never come up for air ever again. 

omifuck i'm so wet i can feel you pull it out of me....please cock i want to suck it for you Master...

Her nectar diffuses hotly through me with each swallow, like the warmth of warm milk could reach my fingers and toes.

"OOoooh..." Moan mm your tongue is almost as good as cock i'm so desperate. Make me cum again please PLEASE Master make me cum again...fucking FUCK it's so hard not to be able to move! i thought i was good at being passive NNNNNNFF!!

Wow that's tight. I've really got nothing but my face.

I've been saving them, waiting on some instinct for the moment to remind us of their continued presence, and now is the time. I rise from between her legs, sit, lift my hands like a puppeteer, close my fingers around the strands of power that still run between us, and carefully pull.

Wait what OH Sade's Balls YUS of course I'm a doll!

Up oop eep hehe i think this is tricky teeter okay that's sitting up...

It's going to take me centuries to actually be any good at this, but I've got her sitting with her arms limp at her sides and her head upright and looking at me with a very lustfully shocked and happy expression. "You forgot about these."

Sh-nf. "No Master, but i somehow didn't figure out why we have them." i hope i sound as horny as i feel because i am going to implode if i don't get some of your cock.

"I have something for you."

YUS!

I kneel up carefully, holding the puppet-strings as steady as I can, and position myself in front of her face so that my shaft angles up comically between her eyes.

Nnnf it's right there...

"As soon as you can reach, lick."

Lick my lips get ready Omifuck ALMOST come on YUS bringing me close THERE tongue out are you nice and wet tongue yes you are good SLURP oh hehe obviously nnf ouch that pinches when you put my weight on them but who cares i'm licking up your cock put me over the tip put me over the tip come on please well fine i'll OH MMMF there we go yay deep throat mmm.

It's almost too tricky to stay focused on the sex, but I still manage to pull her up enough to grab my tip between her lips and swallow me down as I lower her - noticing her wince as I have to pull against her legs not being under her to raise her.

I can move the strings almost arbitrarily, and feel hundreds of possible tinier ones to grasp, moving fingers or lips, but there's a limitation: I have to actually _puppet_ by holding the strings in my hands like she's a marionette.

That's okay. I've got a puppet that can help me out. "Grab my hips and get onto your knees."

Nf okay yus grabbing hips gotta see if this lets me cop a feel yus yes it so does hehe i wish i could see Master's face right now....okay, legs, i feel you trying to do it on your own let me help just pull you under and arch a little to stick my ass out a minute so Master can get a look in the mirror behind us mm mmf oof deep cock okay THERE.

Her hands wrap my hips and hot soft fingers find their onto the curve of my ass, nestling in the fold between ass and thigh adorably. I hope you like your breakfast as much as I like mine, little one.

She's balancing some now - weight has come off the strings - but still helpless and they still move her as easily as if she were a doll still. It's glorious. Her mouth around my cock is slick and warm and her tongue hugs my shaft lovingly, and she's purring gently so that the vibration would probably bring me off eventually if I just left her here.

Maybe I should. She's poised comfortably enough...but it's not _satisfying_. I want _her_.

Mmmf...Master?

"Do you like my cock? Moan for yes."

Hehe MOAN "MMNMMMMmmmf!"

"It likes you. I'm about to let the puppet strings go, and when I do, you will be free to give me the most awesome blowjob you know how to do. Move any way you want or reposition yourself how you please so long as you're trying to suck me off better. You're going to show me what _you_ can do--for me, succubus fucktoy. Understand?"

"MmmmfMMM!" MOAN i get it Master...fuck. Fuck why does that make me feel all weepy and soft? Oh. i get it. Snif i love you too Master...

I let go, and the change in her posture is shocking, like she really is a toy come to life all at once and leaping up.

The very first thing she does is reposition herself so she can drive her face into my mound and swallow me with lips pressed wet against the join of cock and mound. Her hair is soft against me and I rest my hands in it, caressing. Even so disheveled it's silky.

MMmmmf glug suck come on throat suck Master good...okay, here we go. Don't worry self it's only going mostly away. Uuuup and there lick and kiss the tip tongue all soft wrap around and look at Master with my best blowjob eyes now let's get my legs under me...

She's as good as ordered, looking up at me with blissful half-mast eyes and purply-blushing cheeks, tiny specks of reflective stars under her eyes catching the light like glitter. Her hands tighten on my hips and a bit of weight settles momentarily onto my shaft as she pushes her hips up until she's in a sort of half-doggy position, still wrapping and licking my head from just below the ridge like making out with my cock--

Okay which way is the headboard can't turn around to look but can see the other three posts of the bed so face that way and hope we're close enough to make it worth it.

I follow her as she walks a semicircle around me on her knees, never leaving my cock, confused until the headboard swings into view. It's a gigantic mirror, just barely dished for magnification, and she's moving to put her cunt right at the focus. It's glistening, all puffy lips and slippery-looking entrance covered in thick nectar, and though the magnification is slight it feels like she's right in front of my face.

Wow okay you noticed the mirror i can taste it YUS.

At no point through the whole maneuver do her teeth even graze my shaft.

So does this let me come all the way _off_  your cock?

Yes. Good okay lean up, grab shaft as i stop sucking, i love you SO MUCH see it in my eyes while i lick my lips all slow? i love you Master i love you SO. MUCH. PURR. Now open wide grab your hips again ass up cunt out and _NOM_!

Her mouth is as wet as her cunt, and a long stretch of nectar trails as she releases my cock for a moment to lick her lips. More bridges the gap between them when she opens them again to take me in.

Mmmmmmmfffff yumm....

The first plunge takes her slowly all the way from my tip to my mound, and I rest a hand gently in her hair again as I watch her cunt move with it in the mirror and she sets to work thrusting against me.

Omifuck this tastes amazing okay one thrust, two, three, four, five and up lick your tip kiss now down mmf i know throat i AM hungry down tight mmf and suck and thrust...

The rhythm is maddening and glorious - instead of charging up the mountain to orgasm, she's stopping me for a rest every few thrusts to please my tip and meet my eyes lovingly so that sensitive as I am I'm only _just_  short of grabbing a horn and forcing her onto me each time when she starts again. She must be able to taste it.

Fuck so good yes i love you Master see? Gonna drip i'm so into this so let's do something better than waste it come on tail concentrate with me...ooh fuck nnnnn didn't realize how bored my cunt was NO FUCK FOCUS SELF there get the nectar...mmmmm mmf....onto my tail, both side, then tail up and away do the twirl so i don't drop any and THERE Master should be able to reach that.

Just as I'm falling almost into a trance with the rhythm of it she raises her nectar-covered tail next to me, easily in reach but not in my face. Just...there if I want it.

I want it.

Yus nf Master's got my tail come on OOH yus oh thank you Master that's so...mm....lick me lick me YUS i can taste you like my nectar yum...oops gotta slow down a little now hehe...

When I'm done licking her barb clean I take the soft point between my lips and lick slowly across it like going down on her clit, then release it. She shudders on me with the intensity of it, and squirms gloriously, but keeps up her careful ministration on my cock.

FUCK MMM WHOAH that's sensitive okay gotta do it concentrate be good tail YUS THERE! Heart-shaped tail for Master go me.

This is by far the longest, I start to realize, we've gone since we started having sex, and I'm throbbing inside, edging a little closer each time she stops to play with my tip and look at me so sweetly, and it's finally getting to where I'm going to come anyway, I can feel it ready to break over me like one of the waves we rode in the True Sea, feeling the pressure throb up to--

Aaaand off to lick again slurp....

She stops, again, leaving the anticipation burning maddeningly on my tip and maybe I'm imagining it but there's a tiny note of defiance in the supernova of love on her face as she licks. She _can't_  be missing that I was about to come, she _can't._

Something snaps. Fuses blow in my mind as the course of action crystallizes and for an instant migraine aura start to set in but all the nectar I've been drinking replaces them with the neurological equivalent of body-temperature superconductor and my vision clears.

_Everything_ clears.

Gah FUCK _YUS_  MMF fuck that was rough ok now we can--MMF oof!

Instantly I grab her by a horn and hair and ram her onto me, thrusting over and over, fucking her face like I'm pounding her cunt. She struggles weakly but I've got her held tight and am pounding away too hard and fast for her to do anything but flow with it. Her throat is transcendently soft and elastic as I hammer it, and perfectly slippery.

FUCK. ME. POUND ME FUCK ME MMMF!

FUCK HOLY FUCK THIS IS HARSH YUS I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT! MASTER CUM THAT'S PRECUM OKAY GET READY TO-- _HOLY FUCK!_

The orgasm, when it _finally_  hits after what feels like an eternity fucking her mouth, is mind-shattering, pleasure like a burning wave through my body setting me tingling as I force her face into my mound with all my strength and she squirms satisfyingly, writhing against me so that her cunt dances for me in the mirror as her wings flap helplessly and her tail lashes. I've pressed her so deep I can feel the blunt nubs of her fangs, four little points against the base of my cock.

Glug NNF MMF FUCK this...is...soo...whoah...

...and as it subsides and the gallon of come I've just fed her is out of me it's like I reach the peak of some wonderful mountain of lust and pleasure only to find another, even higher, beyond it -- and another beyond that.

Of course there are two more. _Obviously_.

Whoah whoof eep pant pant gasp okay there's breathing back but--OOF!

I only have seconds before it passes. I yank her off my cock, push her up to her knees and spin her around so her ass faces me and, before any of the nectar from her throat can drip off to the bed, plunge hard and fast in and resume my pounding, driving for the next orgasm.

Why did I think trying to wait between them was a good strategy?

FUCK OUCH NF FINALLY FUCK OOF

POUND ME OOF OOF NF YUS _POUND ME OUCH_

It's as good as the spank that conquered her before, the way I'm bringing our hips together. "Your ass is _MINE_ , understand?"

nod nod yes Master OOF FUCK

It's gloriously tight, and all the tighter-seeming for my violence.

"Say it out loud, while I fuck you. Your ass is mine!"

I'm loud, snarling, but she doesn't shrink away.

MMmm FUCK OOF "My OOF ass is...YOUR MASTER ITS YOURS AAAH!"

It's just right, and puts me over the edge to a intense, overwhelming, pounding orgasm that drives me to fuck even harder, terribly fast, as I cum, so that her call of surrender blurs out into one long overpowered scream, polyphonic and beautiful, wailing like a demon getting fucked.

The single remaining sane pixel of my mind notes that this life is going to be hell on my metaphors.

As soon as the plateau arrives I pull out of her ass and plunge into her cunt and try to now actually use what I've learned.

During the few instants of freefall between one penetration and the next I can feel myself ringing like a bell, nerves singing, heart pounding, _READY._

Whoah eep pop your head is so wide! Finally my ass feels--OOOooh YUS WHOAH OOF YUS COME ON COME ON FUCK ME STRUGGLE NF FUCK ME

I'm in her. "Look at me while I fuck you. Now." She's trying, a little, to fight, but I have her in an iron grip and am already driving us together.

Looking. Eyes up.

_Fuck_. _There_  is my Master!

I look pretty good too OOF!

And I take her. I'd thought I would be carefully finding what she showed me before, following the path to orgasm just fast enough but not too fast, but now I can read the signal from my body it's just saying _faster harder more hurry keep up_  so I do and it tears a snarling roar from my lips to match her wail and then I'm talking to her as I pound, voice raised and harsh:

"You are MINE your mouth is mine your ass is mine your cunt is mine your lips all of you understand?"

nod OOF nod OOF FUCK "YOurs ooooh Master YOURS I'M YOURS!"

"So bring me off now and do not hold back one tiny bit of what belongs to me!"

"YES MASTER" NNF POUND WHERE ANGLE THERE OKAY POUND PUSH POUND PUSH SQUIRM THERE DANCE WITH THE STORM THAT'S RIGHT HIPS POUND NF GRIND MMF FfffffuuuuUUUCK!

This time the release is really all of me. Something moves inside me and I feel throbbing all through my midsection like the hot joy that usually stays in my balls and then I'm grinding us together and she's pushing onto me with all her might and glaring happily through the mirror at me with mouth open and tongue raised as if it's tasting what I'm pumping and pumping into her...

Sade's Holy Six-Dimensional Balls how much cum do you _have?_  This tastes _amazing GLUG!_

When I come back to my senses, she's still pressing against my mound, held there tightly by my grip at her waist, panting with me. As I catch my breath: "So, did you have a choice about any of that?"

Hoof. Pant. "No Master."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm yours, Master."

i feel so beautiful when you rape me.


	21. Hearts and Flowers

"Say it again."

"BECAUSE i'M YOURS MASTER!" pant pant oof wow okay squeeze Master out can i still do that YUS!

Glug glug so much cum yum suck it all down your fucktoy will drink all of what you give it Master slurp slurp glug.

I'm sated, at long last, rock-hard but no longer urgent, and bask for a while in the pulling of her cunt gently squeezing out my last drops, just running my eyes over her. She's beautiful in front of me, ass raised to take the pounding I've just given, eyes still locked to mine in the mirror, larger-than-life.

Omifuck pant whew

Sade's Balls that was intense.

Master. Looking at Master looking at me your eyes feel like hands on me please play your lyra Master purrrrrrr...

The familiar vibration returns as I ogle her, comforting me as to her response to all of this.

Purr Master i love you....

"Again, and use your whole body to show me how you feel about it."

Nnnf okay can't reach to masturbate so grind down and dance on your cock instead i can balance and squeeze a breast though ooh those get so hungry for your hands Master see yours hold it up so you can see in the mirror now lick my lips look down look submissive eyes scared of you i want to please does this please you Master no front down give the breast a squeeze hey a drop of milk now down head down shoulders down stretch out arms on the bed and worship while i -- fuck oh fuck that pushes your cock deep fuck i'm gonna pop eep fine then let's pop DOWN AND WORSHIP MASTER NNF there pant gah i love you Master push more onto your cock how deep can your fucktoy take you Master as deep as you want it to that's how deep okay here we go head up juuuust enough deep slow breath in pull your cock into me nf ouch fine more PULL fuck the pressure inside so full lick my lips full of cock love Master voice slutty "This is your fucktoy Master i belong to you i'm all yours i...ooh...i'm" gasp nf "YOURS MASTER YOUR LYRA AAH!"

As she says the last I force us together hard to drive my cock into her as deeply I can so that she squeaks cutely on the last syllable.

"NNAahhh.."

The sound is so adorable I have to hold it for a bit, just squeezing us together.

"....haaaah..."

Finally, to the tune of her bottomless lungs squealing out the depth of my penetration, I can see anything other than her eyes, watching me, curves hugging me, face turning up to me.

"...aah..." Fffuck that's deep fuck

The first thing I see is above the headboard: hearts. It's tall, but not so tall that there isn't room for excitement above it. Three huge concentric, off-kilter hollow hearts in different kinds of gleaming polished stone shaped like the necklace I took off her the previous night frame the top just-off-center-to-the-left of the headboard so that it seems as if they're coming out of it in a cartoonish expression of the love we're both feeling. They form the center-top of a pentagram that's inscribed on the mirrored headboard but continues above it to be large enough to comfortably summon someone just about my pet's size. The lines are inscribed into the mirror beneath its surface, black-reflective instead of perfectly silvered, and the mirror continues up beyond its upper boundary in narrow paths to make the pentagram complete, subtly laid in behind the hearts so that whoever is bound there will seem to radiate the hearts like a halo from their upper body. The pentagram is surrounded by a nearly-full-depth bas-relief of a row of kneeling, bowed-headed, femme succubi almost life-sized along the top. Above them, spread artfully to fill the space is another faced full-frontal toward me, lying horizontal, pulled into position by elaborate rope bondage that emphasizes the nudity of her body by leaving everything between thighs and upper arms bare of rope. To my right, heavy curtains shining silken in the glimmering light that suffuses the room now are drawn back from side of the bed, hanging limp.

nnnf gasp fuck pant

The light seems to come from nowhere until I realize one of the hearts is made of purple-glowing gemstone.

To the left of the pentagram, a kneeling femme succubus faces away from the view, hands bound behind her back pinning her wings, and leans forward to obviously go down on the standing, hands-bound-above head feminine figure she's facing, while the ecstasy of that plays out on the standing figure's face and glittering diamond nectar peeks out on her thighs around the edges of the kneeing figure's head.

Eep gah OMIFUCK it's a good thing i can't move  right now.

It goes on. Trying to take the whole room in at once is dizzying. Is impossible. Twisting around further shows me the pillars supporting the bed's canopy are feminine figures stretched out, inverted, arms tied back, heads back to swallow one of the rope of stone tentacles that rise from the foot of the bed to meet them - and they're penetrated in their cunts as well by tentacles dropping from the ceiling. Purple light glows from the joins of mouth and tentacle, cunt and tentacle, making the illumination seem truly directionless.

Beyond the bed is more of the same. The walls of the room are composed of solid friezes of statuary just as dense and intricate and pornographic, surrounding the secondary "beds" in such a way that they seem from our perspective in the main bed like empty picture frames.

nnnnnnf push into Master oh hey i can move that way well obviously hehe THIS IS HOW i FEEL ABOUT IT PUSH ONTO MASTER NNNNF

I just barely catch as I twist that the bed is five-sided, with a third pillar of somehow differing design at the point in the middle of the foot - and the sides aren't perpendicular to the headboard: it's a regular pentagon.

Can we get tail in on this come on tail oh you're already around Master's leg.

My pet is pushing and squeezing with cunt and tail, faithful and determined, face nakedly overwhelmed by penetration and love, hands gripping the cunt-slick sheet so she can get enough purchase to drive herself adequately against me, and it draws me back into the abyss of her gaze.

Around us, in my peripheral vision, stones gleam with shifting iridescence and subsurface refraction, but when I look at her everything else seems to drop away. "I love you. Good girl."

L--nf. Fine then LOVE YOU TOO MASTER SQUEEZE PUSH NNFF SEE LOVE YOU TOO!

"That's enough. Slide off."

nnnnnf okay off slow nnf fuck that's wide guess i won't get used to it then nnnff...fff....POP OOF "Aah!"

"Kneel up and turn around to face me."

Okay up carefully slowly eep whoah i'm all wobbly hehe up slow push front up hands stretched out aaand up turn around to face Master pant pant whoof pant i guess my ahegao's going to be stuck for a minute well not like Master minds.

Blink gasp lick lips there okay pant.

Master.

As soon as she's composed she goes unnaturally still again, balancing carefully, gaze locked to mine and full of love, still breathing hard but even that seems suppressed somehow, like she's only permitted the minimum of it without orders. We're close enough that her nipples graze my chest as she pants.

"Can't move?"

"Yes Master."

"Sexy."

NodnfRight fuck yes Master sexy so intense can't breathe can't move can't FUCK can't even purr fuck i'll pop too much FINE THEN LET'S POP

_WAIT MASTER WHERE ARE YOU GOING I CAN'T FOLLOW YOU AAH!_

I'm not even halfway to the foot of the (admittedly titanic) bed backing away before fear plays across her face and a raggedness enters her breath. It's _adorable_.

Once maybe I would have said something more solicitous here, but now: this is _adorable_. I soak in it a moment, still slowly backing away, then reach out: "Come here and take my hand."

YUS PHEW BOUND POUNCE GRAB!!!!

Her leap is even more adorable, and nearly knocks me onto my back, but leaves us clasping hands, both of hers gripping the one I've offered tightly, soft and warm.

Pant pant phew love you Master.

"Let's explore. Follow me around. As long as you're within arm's reach of me you can move and talk however you want to as long as you're obedient."

Pant pant thankyouthankyouthankyou Okay if i'm allowed to move then let's--oh. Can't do it while you're kneeling. Fine then, soon as your feet are under you.

I shift my grip to hold only one of her hands, twist around, and lead her off the bed and toward the bedroom door.

As soon as we clear the bed and I'm standing, she zooms around in front of me and kneels at my feet, ass up, face down to the floor, kissing my toes reverently.

Her body language is, is...my eyes settle on her tail for a moment, which is lashing languidly, framed by the curves of her ass and wings.

Master.

Master.

Master. Master i love you. "Thank you. thank you Master." Kiss.

This time her nectar is already nulling the [overwhelmed](https://www.google.com/search?q=overwhelmed&spell=1&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjfgNuO3MTbAhU_HTQIHeDcABEQkeECKAB6BAgBECc) inhibitive pathways before they even get the chance to blow out. Tangled thoughts unwind smoothly.

_Her body language is absolute worship._

It's _**awesome**_.

Master i...snif...

I let her go on until I feel the hot drops of tears on my feet. "Thank me for what?"

"FOR ME! Thank you for me, Master! i'm what you want you could have had a puppet you could have had a doll you could have had me just wait until you tell me to do something but you wanted _me_  Master i could have been happy those other ways and if you want to play that way i submit it'll be fun but Master you wanted _me_  so thank you for ME! THANK YOU MASTER!" sob sob gasp sob "Thank you..."

Nuzzle master's feet snuggle sob...oh no i'm making such a mess oops Master sorry...

I'm about to speak when she, heh, masters her sobbing enough to go on:

"Master if it would please you i could clean up my tears with my hair..."

Show Master my mess so humiliated.

She rises just enough to let me see the black streaks of tears all over my toes, and gravity seems to shift around us, like I can literally _feel_ the pivotal moment.

"No. Lick them up."

I barely get the words out around the lump that's forming in my throat as I do the math on what this is about.

Omifuck that's such a better idea thank you Master liiiick lick fucking hell you taste SO GOOD...nf. Master?

Midway through, I reach down careful not to push her off, and take hold of one horn. It's a hopeless job, because she's just crying harder as she does it, but she's made amazing progress anyway.

But i was...oh. Still crying. Sob snif.

I pull her up and kiss her gently, then take one of her hands in mine and put her index finger tip-up.

Master?

Big drops stand out at the corner of her eyes, ready to roll across her cheeks. I kiss one tenderly away - it's salty, and sweet, and aching - and then take the other on the tip of my own finger and transfer it to hers.

"You are going to keep that there until we can find something to put it in so I can save it. Understand?"

Nod nod yes Master i undertand FUCK SOB here Master i've got lots more tears now if you want them fuck are you going to cry too?

"I'm sorry I cast you out. It's the biggest mistake I ever made and nothing I ever fuck up will ever compare to it. I will never do anything like that ever, _ever_  again. I promise on--on the name of Sade I will always, always be your Master. Now get the fuck into my arms and hug me as tight as you can but _do not spill that tear it came from my beloved demon slave and it's **priceless**._"

Only by snarling through gritted teeth do I get the last few words out before we're both lost in tears as she jumps me and I slide to the floor and haul and the blankets to pull some around us only to have the whole bedspread come sliding frictionlessly down around us in a giant heap which is exactly what's needed as we sob and scream together squeezing out the heartbreak of what it has taken to bring us back together.

"Hey. Up. Look at me."

Master? Looking at Master rub the tears away eep is the other one okay yes it is good.

"You came back for me anyway. --" I start to thank her, but her speech before echoes through my head and I suddenly realize: she doesn't _want_  thanks. That's not how she works. She just needs to hear:

"Good girl. Good job. You came and got me back. Good slut."

NOD NODS MASTER THANK YOU MASTER...purring...SOB FUCK SOB AAH

And we're lost in another gale of tears, bitter and sad wringing out the pain as we cling to each other with iron grips, until it's wrung out and we're just left embracing under a mountain of increasingly-hot blankets.

Nuzzle kiss...i love you Master.

I kiss the top of her head and then hurl the bedspread aside with a mighty kick, noting that it must weigh something like a hundred pounds - and how easily I hurled it across the room.

"Now come on, we need to go find something to put that tear in."

Okay, up...oooh fuck hehe oops!

"What?"

But I'm already guessing, and look down to find myself an inverse night sky, streaked with dots and nebulae of her tears.

"Heh. Get licking."

Yes MASTER. Umum okay don't spill my tear try not to cry too much more from thinking about that order and lean forward wait fuck my hair pull it back poor hair Master will brush you soon for sure okay hair back lean down liiiick oops gotta balance on the other hand try to only drag my breasts across you where i've already licked liiiiiiiiiiick...

She's delightfully, cutely deft, holding the hand with her tear aloft as she crawls across me, tongue hot slick and wet sliding up my form licking with a relish that makes me feel as if she's going down on my whole body and not just my cock. My own tears threaten to return as I consider that coming from her, being licked that way is the expression of her absolute adoration and love.

OooohmiFUCK you need to kiss some of these out of my mouth i wonder what that would do to you after getting all sweat-reactive like this...snif....well i GUESS THERE WILL BE MORE SOON WE CAN TRY AGAIN HEH

Maybe breakfast isn't _quite_  over. The ministration of licking with her soft breasts and hair trailing in its wake is maddening, intense, delicious, and if anyone ever deserved a reward, it's her.

That's Master's hand on my head come on please please YUS okay going down down down open and okay Master's not leaving anything to chance opening my mouth with his other hand nnf boo i was gonna lick your thumb MMF COCK DOWN NNNF FUCK ANGLE EEP FINE LET'S POP okay suck and uuup fuck my face please Master--

"Enjoy."

i...eep....yes Master mmmf slurrp yum. Up the shaft and down and up lick lick slurp fuck that's good you are DELICIOUS YUM Master down again bounce and fuck you said enjoy that means hands on to me let's see if i get in trouble oh those hips yum well not correcting me so far grope away self!

She complies absolutely, purring and cooing loudly, breath ragged and hot on my mound and balls.

"I'm still going to want to play with the puppet strings and doll thing."

nod nf heh PUURRRRRR GOOD me too.

Her hands wander as she works, groping unabashedly, sending waves of tingling pleasure through me so that I throw my head back and moan softly, glad she can't see my face redden as I realize the noise I've been making. I can see it redden - barely visible in the purple light - in the mirrors I find on the ceiling, cleverly wrought into the sea of statuary that makes it up so that I can easily see everything I want of my pet's prone form moving with the dance of joyfully sucking me off - magnifying us, I realize, like the headboard. Do they move to track us somehow, or did we just pick the optimal spot to play on the floor?

uuuuunf puurr yum wish i had a free hand to masturbate come on tail please do it PLEASE? Oooohhh puurrr YUS....

"Make sure you come when I do."

Puuur yes MASTER.

Watching her tense for orgasm in the mirrors is adorable: urgency begins to enter her tail's languid movements, her back arches, and wings that had lain limp across us rise and seem to prepare for flight.

unnfff purr slurp...mmm come on...now wait for Master suck suck suck...

I'm far slower coming, this time, than before, despite not doing anything to delay myself: the last trio of orgasms really did wring me out, and this is like a sort of desert or aftershock as it slowly builds, teasing me that it might not come at all and then--

MMff fuck down okay love your hand on my head so much and let's go tail and cunnnnnt AAH PURR

Wind fills the room, cooling me, as she flaps happily and purrs loudly with our shared orgasm. The come throbs slowly out of me and down her throat, drawn by her swallowing. Her hand traces down my side and comes to rest on my hipbone. I'm relaxed from coming, and raising my head is an effort, but I manage to look down again anyway and see her poised there, wings and tail limp now, head held in place by both my hands firmly cupping the back of it. 

THROB THROB UNF SUCK YUM PURRRR.

When I'm sure she's done, I release her head and draw it up by a horn.

Master.

"Come up here again." I release her horn.

BOUND POUNCE MASTER PURR!!!!

She leaps onto me in another all-her-might embrace, purring and hugging, head raised, face inches from mine, looking into my eyes excited and happy, eyes bright and shining with the purple light, still panting slowly through her open-mouthed, befanged smile.

AAH FUCK MY TEAR no i didn't spill good. Keep the hand up keep the hand up come on self.

"Kiss me."

Up kiss Master mmmf fuck so good HOW DO YOU TASTE LIKE CUM???

Wait fuck nectar  _obviously_. But what's it mean?

It turns into a good few minutes of makeout before I break the kiss and stroke her cheek to hook disheveled hair behind a pointed ear.

"Okay, up for real now, come on." I give her a gentle nudge by the neck with my thumb on her voicebox and she rises quickly, pushing up by a hand on my chest and revealing again how little she masses for her size.

Okay stand up slave pose with...eep fuck against _don't lose the tear self Master meant what he said_.

I follow her up with a deep breath, pushing myself up again with unexpected ease on the bedside behind me until I'm standing over her.

The tear meanwhile has further adventures, almost smeared out as she begins to put her hands behind herself so she can stand submissively and look up at me expectantly and then catches herself to hold the tear instead carefully in front of her.

FOllow Master that means RIGHT NEXT TO MASTER if i'm allowed to do this how i want SNUGGLE.

She falls in beside me and just a little behind, so close our hips graze as we walk, as I set off for the bedroom door.

We're on the same side of the bed we entered it from the first time, and I reach across my pet to trail my hand over the bared mattress we left the previous night. It's feathers, too, soft and flawless, and the material is coarse enough to have a grain, but still silky.

The door is in a corner of the room opposite the foot of the bed, beside a massive floor-to-ceiling mirror at the foot of the bed with another pentagram inscribed, this one complete with Infernal writing and a second triangle of points overlaying the star and ancillary symbols around it like the one on the ship so that it looks really properly eldritch gleaming in the low light. Whatever the mirror is made of is feet thick but almost perfectly transparent so that it looks like the pentagram is floating in space just far enough from the reflection to give a good frontal view of my pet when I _definitely_  return _very_  soon to bind her there.

Master?

I stop to cast another look around the room before we leave. The pillar at the foot of the bed is on this side made of a crowd of bowing and kneeling figures holding out hands and tails to form hooks and shelves, the kind you'd rest a sword or -- an image of ropes, whips, floggers, canes, cuffs, all hanging perfectly arranged and ready to go flashes through my mind's eye as my view settles on the shelf -- other toy on. Oddly, the sword isn't among them, thought not because it's rejected: it's going Somewhere Else.

Stopping to look okay then be nice and close but not in the way snuggle purr.

Right now, it's still leaning on the nightstand, which is just-visible to the left around the bed: curving tentacles rise along the corners and splay out into a flat top. The pendant still dangles from its strap, catching the light, swaying gently.

Beside it hang heavy, silken, embroidered curtains with sheer black, lacy curtains hung inside them betraying patterns I can only assume will be up to the standard set by the rest of the room. They're in a track on the "ceiling" that runs around the nightstand so that when they're pulled the nightstand will be ensconced along with the bed. Significantly, there's no nightstand on the opposite side and the curtains hanging there are right up to the bed.

Yeah this is pretty awesome Master, but i'm kinda surprised that you didn't want something more --

It's beautiful. It's perfect. The theme is unabashedly demons tentacles and BDSM, and yet it's all sweet and cute like my pet, comfortingly and softly monstrous. It's--

_...a girl's room,_ my insistent voice of reason finally manages to finish its thought.

\-- butch?

_Is not,_  replies the rest of me, followed by: _Fine it is but she's definitely bi or a lesbian_  followed by the idea that all those smirking Sade idols we've passed coming in here were smirking at the silly noob trying to apply his ideas of gender in _Sade Hall_.

I said give me what I want not what I ask for and got exactly that.   


i mean this is _totally_  awesome, these statues are so inspiring, but i thought you were pretty much monopole butch?

It's adorable and I love it. I lay my hand on the wall again and think at them:  _Thank you, Rocks._

Other than bedclothes, the sword, and me and my pet, the room is empty of everything but furniture. 

Drawn by it, I approach the pillar of shelves.

Okay the way Master is looking at that makes me want us to find a toybox for real.

The stone is smooth and slick in my hands as I touch them, and feels reinforced-solid when I tug. Up close I can see the detail of the figures whose appendages I'll be hanging my toys from and how they're wrapped and 'bound' - and most of them penetrated as well - by more tentacle-motif. The whole thing is almost two feet wide, and not a single one of the figures is free to move or showing other than soft, hot pleasure on its face.

Knowing the way the statues grow, what must have formed this room?

I run my hands down the pillar, over the succubi who will present my toys to me each night, thoughtful.

Purring hot.

_I'm still going to want to play with the doll thing_   


The mental image of the loaded toy-shelf from before fills in, making me reel, with my pet in the background posed sitting against the headboard, helpless in doll-mode and supported by pillows like an actual doll.

It's perfect. Every statue in the room reminds me of my pet or is someone I would like to fuck and every pose is perfect and they are all so _happy_  looking and just the kind of bodies I love what formed this room _I_  formed this room I asked for a place I'd be happy and got _this_ there is no other explanation it's just _too_  optimal. Every statue isn't just explicit but that intense, forward kind of porn that seems to reach out of the screen to grab your cock. Everywhere I look turns me on like the room itself has enveloped me skin-to-skin and is fucking me - and I wonder as I turn in a circle looking it all over and catch my pet looking at me lustfully if she's feeling the same way.

Master's looking at me. Yum. Lick my lips mmf!

It's touching me, on my body, lovingly embracing, but it's stone because it's driving me not to itself but here, to this little succubus in front of me to make sure I'll put my fingers down her throat like I do now and grab her breast then run my hand heavily over her midriff and into her cunt--

Yumm yumm suck Master's thumb OOooh "MMMmmmfaaaah"

The sound touching her _there_ gets is so adorable I have to pull my thumb away and listen and reeling sideways again inside trying to absorb what I'm looking at all around me I get the most adorably crazy idea and fit two more fingers into my pet's cunt and actually _do_  reel sideways, pulling us into a mutual spin so the room whirls around us but instead of holding hands the point of connection is my hand in her cunt pulling at her G-spot.

EEeep eep eep flap flap flap gotta stay up "Wheeeeeeeeee" don't spill the tear don't spill the tear keep the tear safe waitfuckoops "OOF! OOHAH!" laughing "WHEEEE!"

She lets out a single clear note almost sine-wave pure as we spin until her legs tangle under her trying to be penetrated and spin at the same time and her weight drops into my hand and I have to pull her into my arms which spins us even faster on my heel, clutching her to me by cunt and an arm under her ass.

Pant...pant...YUS THAT WAS AWESOME LET'S GO AGAIN HERE LET ME FUCK YOUR HAND FOR INSPIRATION UNF UNF UNF SADE'S BALLS THAT'S GOOD

Her arms are around me and she's rolling her hips against my fingers like she could devour my whole arm (this is probably possible, with the way I've seen her flesh stretch), and why not. I put my other foot back down and reflexively withdraw it again when it meets something hard and vertical instead of floor but this--

WAITEEPFUCK _FLAPFLAPFLAPFLAP_   ** _OOF_**

\--overbalances us and though my pet flaps valiantly I end up sitting down hard on the mat beneath us with my pet in a heap atop me.

My hand is still in her cunt so I give it a friendly squeeze and withdraw to go looking for the offending item -- stopping along the way to lick off most of the nectar she's covered me with -- which is now apparently-horizontal somewhere under my ass.

Omifuck i totally knocked us down oops fuck so embarrassed "i'm sorry Master i'm so sorry!!"

It's smooth and round and is a high-aspect-ratio cylinder and not at all the right size for the expected wandering dildo.

I manage to get it free: a tiny, shining diamond (it must be for that refractive index) phial maybe two inches long and half an inch around. It's vaguely teardrop shaped, tapering smaller toward the top. I hold it up, showing my pet.

Huh, where'd that come from? Sniff...omifuck...hehe...oops...

Her eyes widen when she gets the scent and then her hands -- hand, she stops just in time to save the tear -- go to her mouth and she shrinks into herself, blushing deep purple, shaking with silent laughter.

"What's funny?"

Giggle...hehe..."i'm so sorry Master we got spinning and i was thinking about saving the tear and i was singing really pure and i was wishing for a bottle because my hand was so tired i guess i stonesung it by accident that's why it's round i was spinning and it was so intense and i guess i made that under us and you stepped on it i'M SO SORRY MASTER!"

"You made this?"

"Yeah, you can sing to the rocks to make things if your voice can do it and mine can." Fuck fuck fuck so embarrassed.

...and I can theoretically, I'm dead sure now, learn to _play her_. This should be interesting.

"Why did you smell it?"

"To see if it was yours or what, and it smells like fresh-me-stonesong so i must have just made it."

A diamond bottle made from our fun, for a tear from our love. It's already the best thing for the job that will ever exist.

"Put the tear in."

What i mean it's not...yes Master umum...wipe it verrry carefully on the rim there PHEW okay no hand you can go down now. Wow, didn't think i _got_  tired. Maybe only from sadism.

"Can you make a stopper?"

At this, she shrinks into herself more and bites her lower lip, reminding me how my kawaii-fangs fetish works.

"Umum...no Master. i'm not very good at precise stuff like that. i could sing the top closed, though, and sing it open if you wanna put more tears in later?"

"Even better. Do it."

Okay, deep breath, focus on the end, eyes on the work-spot, siiiing...

Another clear pure note escapes her lips, and before my eyes the open mouth of the phial reshapes itself into a closed teardrop-point leaving the tear which has run down into a corner of the bottom sealed in.

"That's _awesome._ Good girl."

"Sorry i made you fall, Master."

On the shelf-pillar behind us was a little alcove at just about heart-level, no doubt intended for an artifact _just_  like this. I pat my pet on either hip: "Up."

Bound! Okay, not falling this time.

Rising past her cunt is fun and I stop for a deep lick on the way up--

OOooohhh...

\-- then turn and place the tear into then waiting hands of the statues who form the alcove. There's an aching poetry in putting this here I only vaguely understand, but when I turn back to see my pet's shining eyes I see that she understands it entirely.

OOoofMMFKissshehekiss Master purring...

I snatch her up into a deep kiss wrapped in my arms, and then set her back on her feet and hook a finger under her chin.

"Welcome home, pet."

Purring. Snifulp. Home. Home with Master. _Home_. We did it we really did it we did it we're _home_. Omifuck there's so much to _do!_

Reaching down, holding out an open palm: "Take my hand."

Yes Master grab WHEE hehe!

I whirl us around each other one more time, and then lead her through the heavy curtain covering the bedroom door to one side of the pentagram opposite the foot of the bed.

Oooh snuggly hallway.

It drops into place behind us leaving us in cozy near-darkness. Silken curtains slippery like the bed brush against us as we walk, and we bend around a sharply down-curving gravity change. Barely visible in front of us as we come around the curve is another curtain, silky-smooth, black-looking in the darkness. Brushing at it with my hand reveals a split down the center, and I take hold but don't pull it aside just yet.

"This feels, like, big. This is our home. Take the other side."

Nod nod grab.

"On three, open. One...two... _three_."

Pull!

Beyond the curtain is a soft enveloping darkness, inky black and comforting. My pet shifts her hand in mine and manages to place her wrist in my palm, so I shift my grip up to her upper arm and grab her with a proper come-with-me gesture, something that wouldn't seem to be significant but which makes the next few beats of my heart especially noticable.

Fuck that's hot. Drag me, Master! Look at Master, looking at our room. Hot Master purr.

Just the barest glimmer spills out of our hallway a few feet onto the floor and I imagine for an instant stepping through and feeling around for the lightswitch which will turn out to require going around two more gravity changes to reach.

The space feels soft, and cozy. I pull my pet through into it, and it becomes pitch-black when the curtain falls behind us.

Sade's Balls the energy in here time for aftercare i think i'll just melt into a puddle now.

"Do you think there are lights?"

"i could try to sing for glowstones, Master, i think i can feel some in here."

"Do it."

Yes Master "Liiiiiilaaaaaaaaaahk"

Instantly, light gently rises to suffuse the room, coming from all around us. The room really is soft - even at a glance I can see almost every surface is cushioned with plush, silky-shining pinkish-purple bedding - and the light comes from every inch that's not, mainly a row of softly-curved, smooth-polished naturally-shaped pinkish gemstones about the size of a person set into the wall to our left.

Hah i felt glowstones hehe just the entire furyfucking room made of amethyst well i guess i'm always going to get good aftercare in _here_.

The rest of the space that isn't upholstery is also made from the same stone, all glowing softly, rising ever so slowly just behind the speed at which my eyes can adjust. There's something in the light that's like being hugged the way the previous room felt like it was fucking me, and it makes me feel strong and clear, but almost redundantly so at the moment, like drinking coffee when you're already wakeful.

Between the stones on the walls are rows of steps made of something looking like the floor-mats from the bedroom tilting like those I met aboard the ship in graceful curves up and around to the "ceiling" which is one large soft-looking bed. The room is long and narrow so that the path ahead of us is little more than a body wide - coming in here has pushed my pet pleasantly up against me. To our right is a table or counter fitted with a cushion that makes it seem like a massage table, beyond which hanging curtains run countertop-to-bed making me unsure of their gravity. My eyes settle on the opposite end of the room, which is dominated by a high-backed evil-overlord-style armchair, except that it has only its right arm while the left side of the seat continues around into a half-circular sort of low-backed couch that merges with the other end of the massage table just beyond a set of steps in the mat-covered floor that raise the floor level from being appropriate for a massage table to be right for the seat of a chair without any interruptions in the cushioned surface. Just beyond this is another curtained doorway angled away so that I can tell we'll go around a gravity-changing "up"-slope on the way through it.

Omifuck this is cozy wrap me up snuggle Master.

My pet pushes even closer to me, wrapping herself around me, so I take my hand off her arm and onto her ass via sliding across the small of her back.

Purring PURR EEP hehe!

Too excited for this soothing space, I give her ass a tight squeeze and then a firm pat and take her arm again to lead us through. There's _just_  room to walk side-by-side if we're touching each other.

Whee rub snuggle rub walking fast like fucking Master just with my side wow i just thought that i am such a slut.

Images of the blanketed, recovering people from the ship flit through my mind as we pass through the space. This is _violently_  an aftercare room. We should have come in here to have our cry, I could have set her in the center of the deeply-cushioned circle in front of the armchair surrounded by the bench - there's just enough room for her to kneel there - that we're passing now...or held her in the center of that bed on the ceiling. Or laid her out on the table and set her head in my lap. Or...

The floor curves up the moment we pass the armchair and I put my arm out to push the curtain away as we approach but then something stops me, and as we skid to a halt I turn to my pet and use my hand on her arm to center her in front of me.

Master? Look up at Master eep Master eyes purr.

"It's okay about making me fall. You know that, right?"

shake shake

"Well, it is. Here's what you get for making the perfect bottle for the tear I wanted to save:"

Hand under my chin to make me look at you _melt_. Hands cupping my face nuzzle nuzzle i feel so soft when you hold meMMMFF yum!

I kiss her hard, on the lips, lingering and sensually.

Purring purring.

"Now come on, we've got a house to explore. Ready?" She's enjoying the kiss still, as I speak.

nod nod nod bounce bounce purr

The curtain seems to rotate into place to meet us head-on as we walk around the curving floor. I reach out to part it again, looking for the slit. There. I push through, tugging my pet along with me.

Okay this is cool i want this hallway to fuck me.

For a moment, light from the previous room illuminates a shining-silken, _plush_  hallway curving still up so that as we walk we'll pivot around a point a little above my head inside the "ceiling". It's close, like the room we've just come from, and only the surface we're walking on seems to be firm enough for foot traffic (or frictionful enough: a touch with my free hand tells me the walls are of the same impossibly slippery stuff as our bedclothes).

Eep dark hehe  


\--and then the curtain's back in place and it's pitch black until the stars come out.

Wait, whoah, that's great!

Ahead of us is another curtain, sheer, covered with a blue-glittering starfield of luminescent glitter. Behind it hangs another heavy silken curtain, also covered in starfield, as is our path. It's not just glitter: there are clear structures of galactic arms and differences in hue and magnitude.

This is awesome! These look like real skies, can i recognize anything? i need a fucking starbook!

It's tempting to throw her against the wall and make out here (well, okay, fuck her violently), but the curving floor and arrangement of curtains want us to go on through this interstitial place, so I push through the next set of curtains (my pet reaches out with me to part them) revealing another beyond it which we push through as well, then another and another and -- my pet comes to a sudden halt, and I stop half a step later.

Whoah _. Cool._

It's full of stars. They're the first thing to see, the rest of the space is dark, and it's full of stars _twice_.

First, on the far (presumably) wall, high up (the space is high, maybe ten or twelve feet, unlike the cozier ceilings of the bedroom and aftercare room) glittering electric-blue five-pointed stars catch my eye. They're peeking out just beyond the upper lintel of the curvingly-arched alcove we're in and grow in size toward the center of the "ceiling" revealing rounded tips on the points of the largest ones. In front of us swirls a waving starfield suspended in the air ahead of us as if more sheer curtains, but I can tell it's not: the stars are just floating in midair drifting like they're in gently moving water.

It's such a simple illusion, but _whoah._

"What is that?"

"i think it's stars, Master. i can't recognize what sky, but it looks real."

I make the saving throw versus Snape impression and don't say _'Obviously'._ "What's making it?"

"i bet we have some really bored quartz that used to live outside or something like that. It looks like a rock telling us its story to me."

"Wait, quartz is _sentient?_ "

Shrug? "i don't think it's like you and me but it can remember stuff really well. It's probably remembering with us because we were dreaming all starry going through that hallway and it's so bored our energy was enough to make this. Do you want me to try telling it to chill, Master?"

...and the stars are moving because this is a rock's perspective on the motion of stars translated for humans. Hell no I'm not switching this off, sentient or not. "Not unless it'll hurt us going in there. Is this like what -- Rory was making for us before?"

"It's like, the same idea. i think we can just go through it if we want. Sometimes quartz makes stuff out of electricity but usually you have to hit it lots for it to do that so i'm pretty sure this is just illusion of some kind, Master."

I firm up my grip on her arm and step forward so that the edge of the starfield is in reach, bringing something brilliant-glowing into view as I crane my neck back: the gemstone stars form spiralling paths up along the terraced or vaulted ceiling (it's hard to tell which) like a cartoon of a spiral galaxy with larger and larger stars toward the center, and in the middle is a huge five-pointed star detailed with lines of darkness as a glowing flower with the heart-and-initials imprint I put on my pet's ass at the gates. I crane back to see hers: it's glowing, too, just faintly like her stars, but that looks bright in this darkness.

Omifuck hehe SO CUTE!

Stars float past my peripheral vision to the giggling soundtrack of my pet's joy in being in here with me -- and then one hovers just in front of my face long enough for me to see that they're tiny, butterfly-winged naked girls fluttering along lazily, all glowing-white and featureless but unmistakable in shape. It's...translucent is the wrong word, it's something else, shifting oddly like the difference between a projected image of laser-interference-pattern graininess and an actual scattered laser could be applied to the idea of translucency.

This. Is. So. Cute. Nnnf bouncy bounce nnnnf!

I'm snapped from my reverie by my pet's tugging, but can't take my eyes off the flower-galaxy in the center of the ceiling. The rocks have nicened-up my inscription a bit or something, making it look like it belongs in the center of a work of art like the one above my head, it's...

Without looking away from it: "What's up, pet?"

Okay polite and subby GO. "Master may i please go play in these? i want to dance around in them it's SO CUTE!"

I finally look down to her. "Not as cute as that will be. Stay in my sight, but go on."

Nod nod nod purr. And lose the high of having you watch me dance _and_  go that far away from my Master? Fuck no.

She zooms off as soon as I let go, caroming off a waist-height obstruction I've only just seen. The star-girls swirl around her as she runs, hips swaying, tail lashing, wings raised.

Okay around the thing ooh the thing is a really comfy-looking couch go around in front here's a space aaaand DOWN....

She vanishes momentarily behind it and is instantly replaced by the constellation of her tail's raised barb, and then --

UP BOUNDFLAPSPIN!

Please pleaseohpleasegravity be nice to me...flap flap FLAP land.

\-- rockets spinning up sending stars scattering from her path everywhichway and flaps furiously managing to slow her descent enough that she alights gracefully facing me, arms straight out to the sides, perching on top of the obstruction she launched from behind, impacting just hard enough to bounce her breasts once.

Grin!

Immediately she spins to face away --

Squat ass out tail up show my cunt to Master then wings up and LAUNCH BOUNCE! HEHE THEY'RE SO CUTE!

\-- and launches again, star-girls swirling in the vortices her wings create and caroming madly now through the room.

Grab grab grab nope you're all insubstantial huh.

The breeze of her launch is cool over my skin, reminding me of my nakedness as I watch her somersault with arms out, grabbing unsuccessfuly at stargirls that seem to just pass through her hands when she outruns their illusory fluid dynamics' ability to make them avoid her.

In the background the central star-flower with my initials in the center - I read all the blue stars now as actually being flowers or flowers _too_  - catches my eye again, glowing bright.

I love it, the way I loved the bedroom. Looking at this feels _good_ , is able to register as anything at all with the vista of my pet who has now landed again and is running on foot, twirling and hopping to catch the stargirls with a childlike happy grin on her face, to compete with.

Charge! Come on, i'll catch you all hehe!

It feels good in a way I'm unfamiliar with, good at a visceral level. This space is mine, is _me_  in a way I can't place anything ever feeling like _me_.

Oops out of playroom turn right toward Master okay self slave 101 ask for what you want even when you think the answer will be no Master wants you naked you know that already.

Motion at my feet and my pet skids to a halt in front of me, kneeling with head bowed and lip bitten nervously. "Having fun?"

NOD NOD NOD NOD PURRING

But she doesn't bound away again.

Ulp. Ummm...

"What is it, pet?"

Ulp naked remember? "Master...um...would you please if it would please you please come dance with me?" Ulp gulp eep...please Master PLEASE it's SO. MUCH. FUN!

She's looking up at me out of pleading puppy-dog eyes, bent over in submission but neck craned back to meet my gaze so that her breasts are thrust out in relief below her hopeful face. Her now-even-more-disheveled hair cutely hides one eye despite her attempt to blow it out of the way.

I can't dance, but maybe there's another game that would be fun to play in here. Slowly, grinning, I go to one knee to get my face in front of hers and crook a knuckle under her chin to make her look up at me, and her eyes meet mine, fearful.

"Yes."

YUS! WOO!

" _Run._ "

Eeep fuck hehe BOUNDSPINGO!!!

She rises and zooms off, and I charge after her, plowing through the maelstrom of crazily swirling stargirls she leaves in her wake. I fancy they feel warm where they occasionally strike my skin and vanish within, noclipping through me, but I have more interesting things on my mind now.

Bend around the couch all sudden double back nope Master's ahead fine then BOING up and over back go the other way lets get on the other gravity where are panels there charge go quick self!

I follow her up and over the couch (it's silky and plush under my foot), leap from it hoping to tackle her as she recovers her landing but she's quick enough to be out from under me so I pivot on a heel grinning wildly at the way my new body takes the landing like it's nothing and chase after as she finds a set of angling steps that send her running up the wall and then veering right as I follow.

Fuck fuck fuck this part's not made for walking eep where are panels there outlined again go for that careful self can't see the floor...

Even the swing of gravity change feels ecstatic, reminding me of whirling with her in our bedroom. She slows, picking her way through the darkness toward -- aha. Another set of gravity-change steps, outlined in blue glow seems to float in the dark ahead of her. There's yet another set curving up in front of me to what is now a high wall bearing glowing blue stars, so I head for that, planning to head her off. This set is gently curving instead of just three going around a right angle, evidently because the wall it's still too dark to really see curves like a vaulted ceiling here.

Spin skid bound go the other way Master's ahead gah where are the other steps oh i have to swing around the corner okay huh

She reverses course as soon as she notices me heading for the same floor as her and I follow along the curving wall to my right now heading for the steps she would have used as she instead follows what for her is a floor and me a wall around a corner so that instead of chasing her at right angles I'm looking at the top of her head as she charges for a pitch-black passageway. I angle just ahead of her, charge, and spring, hoping to catch her and pluck her off the wall as she passes. Instead -- 

EeepduckwhewFUCKEEP _OOF getupgetupgetup..._

\-- she notices me at the last minute, lunges out of my way and vanishes into the dark passage, and I plummet through the gravity change to find myself stumbling onto hands and knees on what was her gravity just moments ago, stargirls still whirling in her wake.

Real i need this to be real keep running up and go self where's a door there ooh that's our front door i bet...  


I scramble to my feet, and hear hear her call, taunting:

"Bet you can't rape me again!" i know this doesn't end until you do please know too i need this so bad Master.

Alright so can i open this?

I grit my teeth and charge forward and _decide_  the precipice of the passage in front of me will be a gravity change that allows me to follow her conveniently. It works, teeteringly, and I have to duck low because I'm using this doorway sideways, but I round the bend anyway. The next room is small and I can see her hands-and-knees on the wall in front of me.

Eep fuck guess not upboundRUN!

She bolts as soon as I enter the room - which looks from the low square shapes on the wall to our right to be the antechamber we came through last night - and I charge after her, around the gravity-change of the room's corner, leaping over our front door and grinning at how easy that is to do then pelting up the gravity change again to follow her into a rounded passage opposite the one I came in through.

Waitohnoeepfuck SPLASH fuck which way is out ooh this is warm and soothing i love obsidian so much....

An immediate change of atmosphere as I enter tells me we've found the sauna: it's steamy and warm and I splash into shallow running water, and then as my feet slip from under me on the slick there's a yelp and a splash from ahead as my pet discovers what I'm now learning as I watch stair-steps blur past above my head: the passage is a short, round tunnel, sloping down from its own perspective, and we've discovered that entering on a gravity other than that of the stairs is the fun way down and then I plunge through a curtain of warm falling water that's dropping sixty degrees off-kilter to my own sense of down, have a brief moment of crazily-twisting freefall on the other side, and repeat my pet's splash by plunging into hot, deep water. 

Up and out eep slip fuck flap UP there door across the room RUN self! In the door up the slope hehe warm that'll keep me from dripping everywhere well except for my cunt heh this is making me so wet RUN!!

Shaking water out of my eyes reveals her pattering across the floor outside the pool-scaled tub heading for a door in the opposite wall. I just have time to register black stone, statues, and more water overhead as I pull myself over the edge and follow her up stone steps into the door. Warm breeze opposes us as we run, drying our skin, but it's also a straight passage and I pour on all my speed, handily catching up the gap between us: she's agile, but I'm _much_  faster, and catch her from behind in a bearhug as we carrom through the end of the hall and into the next room.

OOF fuck no nnf struggle NNF!!

It's the blue-stars-room again. Perfect. My pet struggles mightily in my grip, squirming to get free, but I hold tight, then grab her wrists and twist her around to face me and start backing us toward the steps that lead up and around the gravity discontinuity to the destination I have in mind.

Ffffuck nnnf ouch fuck Master is so strong nnf squirm struggle okay is this real or not self SWING!

Her tail rises to whip at me, and suddenly what we're _actually_  doing snaps into focus.

"Freeze. Game over."

Not a riddle, not a challenge, just a party.

What? No! That's cheating!! NNNNNNNNNNNFFFF!

Frustrated struggle complete with furrowed brows and snarling lips suffuses her face, but the rest of her goes perfectly still - it's clear she can't even breathe. I release her wrists, but her arms stay where they are.

NO! NO FAIR NNNF I NEEDED MY RAPE SCENE MASTER!!!!

"Turn around and go to the star in the middle of the ceiling, and give me a show while you go like always."

NNNnnnf NO. i won't i need my rape scene oof OUCH FUCK OKAY OKAY GAH turn sway Master likes my lashing tail eep okay not choking on a whole world of pillow-stuff anymore but EEP FUCK NO i NEED MY RAPE SCENE!!  AAH STOP PLEASE LET ME STOP!!!

I follow her, watching her lashing tail, ready to spring after her if the binding breaks. It doesn't, all the way across the expanse of glowing stars, past the outlines of furniture I'm too busy to parse, and up to the central flower-star which turns out to be even better then I expected: it's actually a big star-shaped table at just the right height, made of something glittering-translucent-blue glowing, surrounded by a stepped depression in the floor so that from the other floor it doesn't seem to stick up.

"See if that's hot or something, and then get on it on your hands and knees and present your cunt to me."

No i won't i fuck okay gah okay touch it's not hot get on crawl on and down ass up air on my spread lips fuck fuck fuck this ISN'T HOW THIS IS SUPPOSED TO GO!

To both our surprise, the star-flower turns out to be made of something _soft_  that squishes under her weight, looking comfortable. She dutifully positions herself with her cunt between two points so I can get up close between her legs conveniently and raises it glistening into view.

Nnnnnnf! NNF! Fuck! PLEASE, Master, please no!!

She's looking back at me, face still defiant. I position myself behind her, and lay a hand on her ass. "When I put my cock in you, you're going to fuck me and bring me off in the most delicious and _direct_  way you can. Understand?"

Nod nod NO FUCK NO AAH!

"Good. Here we go." I pull my throbbing hard-on down into position, and slide it slowly into her wet warm depths, and she exhales slowly.

Sade's Balls it's a relief having that inside me NO FUCK NO THIS ISN'T...i NEED MY RAPE SCENE STOP NO!!

She gets to work immediately, hips rolling slowly against mine in a full circle before she starts to thrust herself against me over and over, squeezing and pulling.

Please, Master!!! AAH, PLEASE! Please please no NO STOP _STOP_!!! Ack okay grind down head to the table i'll do that part too okay slow pull off then hard plunge ON OOF ooh that got my clit wait i have to do it AGAIN fuck of course i do my getting off is delicious to you i'm gonna fucking _cum_  from this NO NO NO NNF STOP!! We can't fuck this way i NEED MY RAPE SCENE! NNFff!!

Her head is down now and I can somehow _feel_  that she hasn't changed her defiance, but her body isn't expressing it - she's supple and focused, slippery cunt fucking me carefully.

Fuck..nnf....pound grind pound grind ooh fuck no i won't cum i _won't_  -- "aaaaAAAAAH!"

Her climax throbbing through her cunt triggers my own and I seize her hips, squeezing them down to mine as we both yell our orgasms, filling the room with our voices.

"AAAaaah...." Throb throb sob DAMMIT ooh....nnf dammit ghaaahomifuck _**GHAAAAH**_ FINE i submit it's good it feels good Master you win grind down squeeze glug unf

Fuck.

Fuck. It's real this is real i get it running away really is just a game now yours i'm really yours for real i was already raped when we started this is me now.

Look back to Master.

Love you Master.

Our eyes lock and something uncoils inside me, uncorked at last, and my orgasm becomes mind-shattering as it sinks in: mine. If we can do this, and she will react like _this_  in the end, really mine. Inside her I feel harder than I ever have before and a strange feeling spreads that I finally place as trying to have goosebumps while lacking body hair spreads through me from the base of my cock trailing a wave of pleasure that warms my whole body. Peace and relief flood through my being and I clutch her to me, thrusting wildly glorying in the way she pushes happily against me now bracing as best she can on the soft and apparently-slippery star.

Unf push fuck Master. Finally finally finally FINALLY it's REAL!!!

Finally, panting, shaking, unsteady, I stroke her hip, murmur "hold still", and slowly, carefully withdraw from her still-embracing cunt to walk around beside her until I can reach an open palm down to her.

OmiFUCK nonconsensual orgasms hit hard YUM.

"Give me your hand."


	22. Mirror Moment

Nf okay remember how to move pick up hand grab ulp snif fuck GRAB.

Her grip is tight and urgent and her eyes when they meet mine shine as if she's about to cry, but she looks _happy._  I'm reeling too, unsteady on my feet, shifting inside like hyperspeed plate tectonics as it sinks in what I've just done and the part of me that would usually take over now tries futiley to clamp down on me.

Fuck fuck fuck omifuck it's _real this is real_  fuck oh fuck please hold me tight EEEEEEEEEP

Thoughts whirl, an inner voice trying to chew on me with gums her nectar has renedered toothless:

_Are you insane? What did you just do?_

_This is a girl's living room, too! You'll turn into a girl!_

_WHAT DID YOU JUST DO!?_

Shh. It's okay, this is right. I need to focus on her now.

...and, like magic, what would have become uncontrollable inner obsessing and ranting quiets, calms, relaxes as the change that suffused me while I came metastasizes. It's not _gone,_ but suddenly I can control it, like I've suddenly gained back mastery (heh) of a wayward hand, or found my mind had claws I can sheathe. 

I'm left looking at her, feeling the desperate hopeful tightness of her hand around mine. I smile down and pull her up and off the star.

Eeep okay up crawl whoah teeter okay one foot down steady oops whee flop Master will catch me.

She falls limp against me and smiles up drunkenly, then seems to get her feet under herself but only barely, so I sweep her up into my arms and she wraps instinctively around me, holding tight as with her hand.

Cling. _CLING._ Fuck fuck fuck hold me so tight Master.

Her knotted, disheveled, windblown, Sea-frizzed, sex-mussed, still-wet-from-the-bath, overnight hair is fuzzy beside my head as she nuzzles against me. I glance around the room as if I can both see in this bottomless-feeling darkness, and as if I'm going to see a hairbrush lying on the floor/wall/ceiling next to the door to the aftercare room I'm already turning to head for.

Around us, as I've -- found a way to rape the willing -- the lights have come on.

It's _made_  of stars. Below our feet as I mount the stairs ringing the star's depression a vision of the True Sea swims with a foreground of brilliant stars, poured over the steps' glassy surface like light from a projector but usually projectors don't have perfect bottomless parallax and infinite resolution.

Okay can relax Master has me good because flop.

Half to avoid vertigo and half to find the source of this wonder, I look up and around, pivoting, at the rest of the room. My eyes glaze over furniture, outlines of walls, hangings with standing nakes figures just to my taste, and scan the opposite floor. It's showing a view of the Sea as well, but there are paths of light glowing on its surface like galactic arms, making paths from the doors and the steps leading to this gravity to a central seating area dominated by the couch we jumped over while playing.

In front of the couch there's something like a coffee table or footrest, long and low and squarish. In the center of it, stacked neatly on top of another object whose identity isn't important next to the tool I most need to take care of my pet right now, is a beautiful, gleaming-silver hairbrush, bristles facing up as if in salute.

Ooooh sway wheee...

It's vertiginous work climbing up and around the gravity changes with my pet limp in my arms, but I manage and quickly am passing the couch and one of its mates - a chair of some kind, but I'm oddly focused right now and then I'm shifting my pet into one arm cradling her under the ass (her cunt is wet and warm near my arm) and reaching carefully down to pick up the hairbrush. It's as gloriously pornographic as everything else we've encountered here: the handle is a lithe, curving femme in elaborate rope bondage, but at the end cleverly billowing hair makes the overall shape explicitly phallic, and it's much thicker than you'd usually get on a hairbrush this size. I take it in my hand and get a better grip on my pet and we both reel.

Omifuck YUS please pleaseplease oh Master please i need that so much please yes!

The instant it touches her skin where I'm clutching it against her back to hold her and it, she coos and rubs against it, trying to press it more against her back. The handle is alive in my hand with a dizzying mixture of loopiness and fear and love and happiness as if it's become an extension of her, as if I could read it the way I read her face except far, far more visceral and direct. "What..."

"...silver conducts emotion...."

Her voice is dreamy and soft in my ear.

...and I can feel the relief whatever it's conducting from me to her is giving her. I shift the grip so as to get more of the metal against her skin - there's a flat back, probably for exactly this purpose - and about-face to head for the aftercare room.

Omifuck ulp snif i LOVE YOU TOO MASTER!!!

It's a shorter journey around the couch and down through the star curtains again, and as soon as we're there I step down into the well in center of the semicircular seat, lower us both carefully to the floor, and arrange her unresisting form so that when I sit in the chair she'll be between my knees sideways so I can get at her hair.

this is comfy

The cushion is deep and plush, and the room has another surprise for me: the seat seemed excessively low but when I climb up into it my feet slide down into pockets between the cushion and the base of the chair, leaving my pet between my knees at just the perfect height for...so many things. 

OOoohh snuggly purr...wait wait omifuck but...purr...

She leans against my knee, purring, as I slide the back of the brush over a breast and then up her cheek before taking up a lock of her hair and, starting carefully from the end, begin to unsnarl her poor hair. The back of the brush is plain and mirror-polished, but I daren't look at what I've become just yet.

Ouch nf omifuck please yes please brush thankyouMasterthankyou....

It's slow work - her hair is nearly dreaded after our adventures and catches on every stroke - but I don't mind. It's...necessary, and I can feel how it's like I'm as much brushing snarls out of her soul as out of her hair and the relief I can feel flooding through her keeps me at it for what must be hours.

Purring purring.

I work silently, communing with her instead through caresses and kisses on the top of her head and the electric connection of the hairbrush. After a while, her tail rises and flops lazily into my lap apparently without her knowledge. The barb lays across one of my thighs, and I stop brushing a moment to caress it, too.

oooh tail purring love

Her hair becomes impossibly silky as I brush stroke after stroke, lining up into straight, shining, mirrored locks with cute rough-cut bangs hanging half over her closed-in-bliss eyes. It's longer than I realized, hanging all the way to her waist when I get it unsnarled.

Purring purring sigh Master.

Finally, it's done, and I hand her the brush, back toward her: "There. Take a look."

Take...look...snif....wwwwait omifuck holy fuck this is my brush i thought it was gone i guess it got toyboxed right to Master HAH!

Doing so breaks her trance, leaving her looking up at me with bright shining eyes and clutching the brush to her breasts instead of looking at herself in the mirror-back of the brush.

"You are so beautiful. Look."

Okay okay fuck look...wow....fuck, i never thought i'd be so glad to have my hair done!! Sade's Balls, you got it perfect, how long were we just brushing my hair!?

i feel so precious right now...

She does and then flips suddenly around and kneels facing me between the knees, holding up the brush on open palms with her head bowed.

"Want more?"

"Umum...always Master? This was my brush but now it's yours because i'm yours so i'm giving you your brush back."

I take it again, lingering with the connection between us for a few moments. She's bright and clear, relaxed, restored, happy, still scared a little.

"How did I get your hairbrush? Is this like, your old house?"

Shake shake. "i think the Rocks must have brought it to you like because it was so important to me or something. i...." Ulpsnif...

Her voice catches and she swallows as if suddenly about to cry. "What is it?"

"Master that's my favorite toy i would fuck myself with it for watches and watches fantasizing about you playing with me the most _intense_  scenes and wearing me out and then...and then brushing my hair brushing my hair _just like this_  and i could drink your love through the silver even though i was too worn out to play anymore and i would feel better and i could play more."

I can already tell we've reached the latter point. "Climb up here and sit on my knee."

Up pulled up hehe climb omifuck close enough to get kissed Master please kiss me oops spin there on your knee.

Your hands are so big on me _i_  feel like a toy...going between my legs okay spread open for Master oooHHHH "hahhh..." purring PURRING

Her outer lips are warm under my fingers and slicken quickly. In moments, I have her wet enough to slide the brush's handle in and start to fuck her with it and then find her mouth for a kiss as I move the brush inside her.

Oooohmifuck "Mmmmmnmfff!" YUS i love you Master i love you mmf yum fuck YES UNF HARDER!!

She writhes satisfyingly on my knee, squirming as I push the handle deeper and angle it against her G-spot. Her cooing voice squeezes out like overflowing nectar, leaking out of our kiss in a breathy hum and becoming full and soft when I break the kiss to watch her face while I play.

Love you love you love you i love you too omifuck i love you too holy fuck

The emotion coming through the silver is beyond description, vivid and intense and _wet_  like the inside of her cunt, lust shot through with the silvery pleading ache of needing me to enjoy this, of needing to know how much fun I'm having with her. I grin tenderly and drive the brush deeper, starting to properly fuck her with it.

"Touch yourself. I want to see you get off the way you would when you masturbated to me."

Sade's Balls UNF fuck okay "Haahh..." Master take your hand on the brush omifuck hehe snuggly now finger lips rub rub outer lips feel so sexy spread wide like this stroke stroke stroke squish and go for my clit but i already feel so sensitiiiiiiiiive "Aaah...haah...aah...AAH!"

Her eyes fix on me, her hand goes to her cunt and she caresses herself beautifully, fingers of her other hand interlaced on the brush with mine, and then comes, all at once, surprising us both. Her hungry eyes never stray from my face, drinking me in.

Fuck oh fuck here we go i hope you know to stop me well who cares we could do this forever you're having fun rruuuuuub....

With the satisfaction of orgasm a pulse of frustration comes through the brush, and I can tell that she's starting again seeking something she didn't get the first time...and the note of frustration tells me she won't get it this time, either.

"Come here. Straddle me and get on my cock."

Yes Masterrr but i can't stop myself Master...oh OKAY FUCKING POUNCE i NEED COCK

As soon as I withdraw the brush from her she's on me, legs wrapping, positioning her hips over my hard-on. The chair is ready for this, too, with ample room for her knees to splay on either side of me and into the space between the plush back-cushion and the actual back of the chair.

Up wiggle oops hehe slippery chair don't fall there caught your tip and GLOMP "OOOoohh!"

As soon as she's astride me I grab her hips and fuck deeply, and she amazes me by speaking:

"Master....may...ooh...i...aah....please show...haah omifuck....you some--ah--thing with your hoh fuck hairbrush?"

I bring it in front of her from where I've had it against her hip, and she snakes an arm out of where it's been pinned between us, does something to the handle of the brush, and the bristles vanish into the back leaving both faces mirror-smooth but for the pattern of tiny holes left behind where the bristles were.

"Noow...ooh....we can put it in...omifuck...in my cleavage...ah...between us."

Awesome. "Do it."

I'm dubious about the possibility of this putting it contact with both us, but she slides it up between pressed-together breasts, leans against me, and manages to get her whole front in contact with me, arching her back so the smooth form of the brush rests comfortably against my chest below the softness of her breasts. Friction keeps it in place relative to me, so that the nectar-slick handle fucks her between the breasts as we move together - and the brush tells me how much she loves this feeling.

But this...i...slave 101 ASK FOR WHAT YOU WANT.

"Please...ooh....Master....give me...orders...."

"Fuck me. That is the only thing you can do until I've come. Understand?"

Yes Master okay nod nod but...nf...fuck that means i can't ask for more now!

Okay then fuck Master that's my job right now fuck Master until he cums unf unf unf grind.

Relief floods through the brush and across her face, her hips bear down, and she finds purchase with her knees to really start fucking me. Further words die on her lips and she focuses. As she rises and falls, speechless but intent, determined, and her feelings flow across the metal between her heart and mine, my own orgasm takes me. On the heels of the relief, lust and joy follow, warming the metal.

Oh. _This_ is what obedience feels like to her? "Go fast! Pound me while I come!"

Unnnf yes Master purring pound pound pound "Aaaaah!!"

She bounces wildly in my lap, flapping for extra oomph, sending her newly-free hair flying in the breeze, tail squirming where it got trapped between us when I ordered her onto me...

throb "Haaaahh aah!" throb throb throb

"Bear down."

Unnf squish push grind grind roll my hips around and down _push YUS_ got my legs around you now _squeeze_ and _suck GLUG._

In response she snakes her legs around me, grips my hips between her things and pulls herself hard against me, head down in determination and so she can look up at me submissively out of a downcast gaze between throbs of squeezing us together with all her might. Her expression is softly raunchy, nakedly enjoying the come I'm pumping into her.

Purring purring suck glug yum.

Did i get it all? Suck. Yup, grin, purring, deeeeeeeeeep breath aaah.

i feel so good now.

As we subside I move my hands from her hips to cup her face and lift it to look at me, caressing her cheek and brushing her hair back with one hand. Her face is supernaturally soft. Her body is supernaturally soft, silky-warm against me, barely solid, full of sex, purring against me.

Oooh coo ooh touching my lips is hot purr snuggly Master's thumb in my mouth yum suck suck suck you taste so awesome lick suck purr.

She gazes up happily, sucking my thumb like a piece of candy, until I withdraw it and take it into my own mouth to lick the nectar off.

More? Look at Master while i wait for Master. This is so comfy with your cock in me like this.

I let the moment stretch like the nectar that strung out between her lower lip and my thumb.

Purring purring purring smile.

Finally: "Give me a last squeeze, then climb off and stand up."

SQUEEEEEEEEZE! Okay brace my legs...nf...hm, what if i...oops heh...umum....there, hands on Master's shoulders and pulllll up.

Fuck but your cock is long.

As she rises, the hairbrush stays in place against me, sliding one last time out of her cleavage but leaving it glistening with heady-smelling nectar that I fancy has absorbed the flavor of our shared lust. With a hand I stop her rising and bury my face between her breasts to lick it off.

"OOoooohhh..." FFfffffuuuuuck more please Master.

Hehe bouncy bounce as you lick past.

It's delicious, and she writhes like I've licked between her legs.

Eep teeter hehe okay up more going.

I've unconciously taken her ribcage in my hands while I lick, so I give her a go-on push as she becomes unsteady, and she rises the rest of the way to be standing on the chair, then hops nimbly down to the cushion in front of me.

Bouncy bounce grin!

I take the brush from my chest and inspect it as I get up. "How do I extend the bristles again?"

Hold out my hands so i can show you Master?

Master gave me the brush. Turn it around, find the blank side, push at the base of the handle, show Master. "Master you hold it here and wish for a hairbrush at it. Do you want me to do it?"

"Let me try."

Put it back in Master's hand.

I take it in the grip she showed me, look at her just slightly mussed hair, and wish. Something moves in the solid metal, and the bristles noiselessly, transitionlessly appear. Do they move quickly, or did they just snap into being as if summoned?

"Turn around."

Yus! Spin.

Oh coo Master fixing my hair purr, Master's hands laying it all neat down my back and brrrush...brrrush unf that's so soothing...unf Master's hand on my side holding me brrrush PURR.

Her hair was almost perfect, but that's sort of...not the point. It feels good, and the comfort that comes through the brush is its own sort of pleasure. I brush a few more completely unnecessary strokes, caress her head, and press myself against her from behind before stopping and reaching down to take her around her front by a wrist and twirl her to face me.

Spinwhee! i love you, Master.

Omifuck kissed on the head purr.

I drop her wrist, put the brush on the arm of the chair - this is a great place for it for at least right now - and take her face in my hands for a hard kiss.

Mmmf!

Purring.

When I pull back she looks up at me...ready. Grinning and poised, vibrating with anticipation of my next order.

There's a strange sense of anticlimax, or vertigo. Again I fancy I can literally  _feel_  the pivotal moment as if something that has been holding us, carring us forward, from the moment we met relaxes its hold and stands back, saying, _welcome to happily ever after._

But this isn't the end of the story. The credits don't roll, there's no big reveal, just the silent smooth shift from the story of _getting_ home to the story of _being_ home.

This is our happy beginning.

Mmmmf Master's thumb on my lip.

Master's thumb on my lip Master's hand against my cheek nuzzle nf Master's thumb opening my mouth yumm suck Master's thumb suck lick suck.

Her nectar is luscious in my mouth, and I sigh, heart light, savoring its rush, looking her intently in the eyes.

Purr you like my taste eee wet and ready to go what's next Master?

"Follow me. Arm's-length rule again."

Then glomp grab your arm snuggle up nestle it between breasts hand down my front.

Ready Master.

I lead us out of the room and back through the stars-curtains to the blue stars room. She rubs against me deftly as we walk, warm and so impossibly soft. I've got vague ideas about getting things Started and it feels like the place for that.

With the lights on, I can see a heavy polished bestatued door standing open to the left in the alcove as we come out of the last curtain, making it possible to close off the passage with more than cloth. The stargirls still swirl through the space, undimmed. We enter the room--

Oooh look Master tug tug!

"What's up?"

Point.

She's pointing to the left, past the couch and into the room.

That is so COOL!

Overhead, the blue star-flowers still glow a brilliant ultrasaturated blue, but that's not what my pet is looking at: across the room, angled opposite the couch, is the perfect chair. It's set against the wall in the center with a giant glowing glittering blue butterfly behind it making up the cushioned back looking luminously silken. Surrounding this is another intersecting-triple-hollow-heart motif, one glowing brightly purple like in the bedroom.

Okay this is going to put me in my place for real. PURR.

The seat is wide with broad cushioned easy-chair arms I can quickly imagine my pet sitting on, the fronts of the arms are mirrored, catching the light, and as I approach with my pet in tow I realize that the butterfly's wings, though shiny, aren't reflecting the room: three-dimensional images of my pet and I having sex shift and overlap, fading across each other holographically as my view-angle changes. The pornographic upholstry continues onto the seat of the chair, and down the front.

Master holding me down. Master choking me. Master looking down at me while i'm kneeling about to suck him off. Fucking Master on the star before when Master was raping me. Master...

_Do your mind reading thing to me_ , I said.

...on top of me. Master...

_Fuck._

Up close, it's large but not impersonally so, and coming around the couch reveals a big silky electric-purple cushion just the right size for my pet to sit comfortably at my feet. Gleaming rings in the center-top-fronts of the chair's mirror-fronted arms make me immediately wish for a physical leash.

...taking me from behind and i have wicked ahegao hehe. Master holding me in his arms. Master...

I step forward and sit, sinking into the cushion, then gesture to the cushion on the floor. "Pull that in front of me and sit at my feet."

Tug tug oof flump hi Master purring.

Pools of full-spectrum light fall from some of the stars over our heads, illuminating my pet where she sits at my feet so that her hair gleams, the low cushioned, heart-shaped table between the two couches opposite the chair, and the couches themselves, angled paralell to the sides of the heart whose point faces away from where I sit. A mental image of my pet sitting back on the table, perched in cleft of the heart's lobes, legs spread, flits through my mind and brings my attention back to her to find her sitting looking up at me happily.

i love you so much.

Grabbed by horn, pulled to Master's knee, head pets, purring. Snuggle up and hold Master's leg.

Stroking her silken hair and looking around, the room finally fills in for me. The True-Sea illusion doesn't cover furniture or the long tapestry-like wall-hangings of standing, naked figures that run from one floor to the other, or the huge starfield-and-nebula-embroidered curtain at the far end of the room. Everything is done up in the same electric-blue-and-glitter color scheme as the chair.

Beside the curtain on either side hang gleaming silver chains, links interlocking complexly like giant jewelry chains, with pull-rings at the ends. One hangs up from our floor while the other hangs down at just the right height.

"Go open the curtains."

Up bound--

"Make it look good."

Yes Master purr flounce flounce swish sway i am Master's porn purr.

Okay around the couches then pull--

"Nope. Pull the one that's hanging down to us."

But it's too high....no. Master says, self. You can do it.

Reeeeeeach....nope.

She streches out on tiptoes like a reaching cat, straining to reach it, but it's out of reach. Before I can respond--

Wings up, tail poised, squidge down and SPRINGFLAP HAH YUS!!

Catching the ring in this way brings her slowly back down, twirling as she dangles from the it. The curtains roll back on another part of the room, oddly empty but for a piece of furniture I finally parse as a tentacle-themed doctor's chair in which I might strap my pet with spread legs, thrown back head, or raised ass and have some fun with her.

Omifuck come on toybox give us some furniture!

Our dungeon-to-be. I try, unsuccsessfully, to imagine a Sadish furniture store, but likely the truth will be much more interesting anyway. My pet alights with a bounce of her breasts and comes one-foot-in-front-of-the-other thigh-rubbingly back toward me.

i know i know i should just stop there and wait for orders but you're SO FAR AWAY right now

...and showing off for you feels SO GOOD.!

"Bring me the stuff from the table on the way back."

She redirects, positioning herself bent-over with her cunt facing me to reach the things that were on the table with the hairbrush, stretching herself far across it with wings raised and tail lashing.

Omifuck omifuck i...snif...thank you Rocks!!

Grab grab ouchie i need gloves if i have to touch anything but you or me. Okay, i can still pick it up without papercuts just be really careful and stack everything on my journal thank you Cheryl for the soft journal.

Up spin walk back kneel down head down hold stuff up this is yours now too Master.

Ulp so naked.

She's holding up a largish softly purple-and-silver-bound book with no visible title, and on top of it is stacked what looks like a shining bit of purply-black lingerie matching her wings and tail. It's a thong bikini, no back, made of something impossibly thin and shiny like patent leather, but that falls like silk when I pick it up. The bottom has a cleverly-hidden slit where her cunt entrance would be, and the geomtry of the top makes me think she'll be either showing nipples or spending a lot of time adjusting it, both of which would be acceptable.

"This looks fun. It's _almost_  enough to make me reconsider never letting you wear clothes ever again."

Hehe... "i don't know why the rocks gave you that, it's just my other outfit. Do you extra-like it Master?"

The floor tilts just a little under me as pieces slam home and an equation that's stood insoluble since early puberty fills in, clear as the night that is our background here. I know why the last of her clothing made its way here. "Put the book aside for a minute."

Oooh maybe we're playing dress-up? Put it beside me on the floor.

"Put your hands on your thighs and sit up and look at me."

Slave pose yes Master. Up.

Sade's Balls your eyes are beautiful when you're scheming something. Ulp.

"I'm revoking my arm's-length rule. From the neck down you can't move a muscle without orders."

Ul--nnnf. Oh. Swallowing's in my neck. Eeep.

"This isn't because you've displeased me. I still want _you_."

Good. Phew. That was scary Master.

She's perfectly, flawlessly still, but for her face which is alive with parted lips and concerned brows. I can tell she'd be breathing hard if she could breathe - as it is, she's flushed with fear and lust.

I let the moment stretch, just watching her watch me, helpless, and then cup her face for a moment, and withdraw with knuckles dragged gently across her cheek.

Puuur oh purr can't nuzzle so show so naked how much i love being touched when i'm bound TOUCH ME MASTER!!

Boo.

Leaning back again, I lift up the bikini, stretching out the pieces between my hands, considering, but the answer to what I need is sitting right in front of me.

"This is all the clothing you still own, right?"

"Master i don't own things i'm yours that's yours too Master." Please understand me please Master please understand what i am....please...

"Good girl."

YUS PHEW JUST TESTING ME HAH!

Yes Master i get it i'm yours Master!!

I ball it up and lay it aside on the arm of the chair. "Then if I leave it there like that, would you touch it or put it on without my orders?"

"No Master never it's not mine."

Anyway i should be in a schoolslut outfit if we're gonna use clothes for this scene...

"Good girl. Then do you understand why you can't move right now?" I shift to the edge of my chair, leaning over her.

"Yes Master."

"Why?"

"Master i'm yours and i can't use me without your orders either and you didn't tell me to right now."

"That's your body. Now, how about your mind?"

"Master that's yours too allll of me is yours."

"Good girl. But you can't just not-think without my orders, so..."

Omifuck, what if...wait, wait Master i already have i can do it!!

Her eyes widen in surprise or realization as I talk, so I stop. "What is it?"

"Master i think i could just not-think i did it when we were resting on the raft i turned into a doll then too i thought i was just sleepy but no Master i even forgot to breathe for a while and i felt like i couldn't move but i also thought i missed some time Master i think i just stopped because you weren't playing with me so i just stopped for a little bit so Master my mind is yours too i only use it when you want me to omifuck that's SO HOT Master i really am your toy!"

"Holy fuck. Can you do that on command, do you think?"

"i don't see why not Master it feels like i could like it makes sense that i could if i can only use this body when you let me that's just my soul expressing _me_  and being yours is me, Master, so i think i could!"

"Wait whoah, you _lost time_?" It's taken me a second to catch up to what she's just said.

"Yeah, like, we snuggled forever, and it felt like it except not, and then i started again because you were talking to me and i had to remember to breathe which means it took long enough that i lost all my air and i felt from your energy like you'd been there a really long time long like you were kinda meditation-tasting i guess so i think i must have missed a while of time because i stopped for a while Master."

It's like I've squeezed all the genki energy of her presence into her facial expressions and voice. It's _adorable_.

"Did it feel bad?"

"Nope! i just was in one moment and then i was in the next one i didn't even know anything happened until now Master. i think i just stop when you're not playing with me like i SO feel like a toy and that would totally make sense as a power i have, Master." Dear Sade please please PLEASE let this be true please let me have this PLEASE!!!

"Let's try it." The words are out of my mouth before I can blink or think "what if I can't get you started again".

Okay, think calm. Stopped. St--

She goes perfectly, utterly still, freakishly still, and it's not the contained vibration she had before. It's terrifying, and confusing, because whatever desperate visceral instinct wants me not to spend one moment without her near can't decide if she's present or not. "Pet?"

\--opped, self...omifuck. Master wasn't sitting like that a blink ago.

"Here, Master."

I exhale, and she looks up at me, excited, vibrating in her bondage once again, face animated.

Omifuck omifuck omifuck OMIFUCK YUS WOO! WOOHOOO _WOO! snif..._ do it again Master i wanna try again i wanna know for-sure for-sure!!

She's smiling wide and brilliant, and there are tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. "That made you _happy_. Let's try something. Stop again."

Okay self, just st--

Again, she goes still. This time, I lean down and run my fingers down her collarbone and over her breast, then cup and squeeze it, but she doesn't react at all, so I lean further, till I'm barely on my chair, and slide my other hand down to where I can cup her mound and slip two fingers inside her. Her flesh is warm and her cunt dripping and it's definitely _flesh_ , but with her mind stopped she really does seem like a silicone toy. I work the fingers good and deep, nestle her clit in my palm, and squeeze her breast again. "Come back to me, pet."

\--opOMIFUCK UNF ooh touch me touch me squeeze me what've you been doing with me i'm so wet i don't know if i got wetter how long has it been did we fuck no can't be i'm still where i was but i wonder how much you fingerbanged me hot this is so hot Master

Her face breaks open with joy and lust as soon as she's back, and I lean in to kiss her on the lips as I work her cunt and fondle her. She kisses back as if it was her whole body kissing me and we spend a long time before I relent and sit back in my chair, licking the nectar off my fingers.

"So, it looks like you'll get to wonder how I've been taking advantage of you while you've been out, too. Fun."

Fucking hell yes fun is an understatement fuck omifuck omifuck YUS! Snif...

The tears roll down her cheeks, and I realize this is a complicated happiness. "Hey...get up here in my lap. Arm's-length rule is back--"

Fuck yes BOUND!

She piles into my lap and curls happily against me, nuzzling. "Good girl. Now what's up?"

"THIS IS SUCH A RELIEF MASTER!" Look up eep no drop my eyes drop my eyes.

"A relief? Being able to stop?"

Nod nod nod nod nod snif purring. "i never have to have a moment where you're not playing with me _ever!_  i never have to ever miss you!" Ulp snif sob hug Master hug him so much SNUGGLE

At this, she breaks into a proper cry, and clings to me, so I tighten my arms around her and hold her while she cries, kissing the top of her head now and then.

snif...Master....hehe i'm so fucking weepy i can't wait till you can make me cry is scenes more....

"I love you. I'm not planning on letting you out of my sight anytime soon, but I promise to pause you if I have to."

SOBGULPSNIF "Thank you Master i love you too thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!" Snuggle nuzzle purring....

Pieces fall together, and I see the image of her propped on my bed, waiting faithfully and motionlessly to be played with again, but that's impossible. There's no possible way I will ever tire of this creature. I won't ever even want so much as a break. _No, you won't,_  says something inside me, _but that's not going to be the point._

Snuggle hugs.

"Okay, back on the cushion and kneel again, arm's-length rule is gone again."

Okay climb down spin kneel look at Master get comfy there goes control.

Nnnnf. NNNF!

I had a scene in mind here, but I'm scrambling to catch up to the new reality now. Except, I don't have to scramble. "Stop for me again."

Yes Mast--

But a tiny tickle in the depths of my soul gives me an even better idea. I've been ignoring the puppet-strings all morning, thinking them redundant with what we've discovered since, but that's exactly wrong. I tug at the string I've felt move, and her face comes to life again.

\--er oh hehe i'm getting faster at st--

And, with another tug, goes still once more.

_This_  will be fun. Tugging with other puppet strings, I manage to pull her toward me and up off her haunches just enough to grab a horn and slip her unresisting mouth over my cock, then lower her till I'm down her throat (I have to arch her back considerably with the puppet strings to make this work), and tug her back.

\--oppingMMF fuck delicious what ooh omifuck can you just stop me omifuck hot okay i can move my mouth so Suck. This. Cock. Yum. i--

I stop her again, draw her up to where she can look at me, and start her.

"Sexy, huh?"

Mmmmf lick lick slurp suck yes.

I drive her back down, push her face into my mound, and hold her there while her lips and tongue caress my shaft and her eyelashes brush my bare, sensitive mound. I'll come, presently, but there's time to tnink.

There was a fantasy, one of the first I ever consistently had, about taking my new wife on our wedding night into our hotel room, locking away her clothes, and Telling Her the Rules. It never quite made sense to me and yet I would hover on the brink of coming for hours going through various rules before coming. I could never understand why I didn't get to the sex that had to follow, or what would be so extra-special about that sex if I did.

Now, I can understand. We've just _done_  that fantasy, or more like we've done that tree that grew from its seed. I never got to the sex because the sex was blacked out for being...being a rape scene like we just had on the star at the top of this room and the rules came _after_  that as a consequence of that claiming. The bikini came here not to be part of that scene, but to demonstrate its redundancy. My pet knows perfectly well what her place is.

Mmmmmfmmmmmf....suck....

It's too much. I seize her hair with my other hand and fuck her face hard.

"Suck me off. Full control. I want my toy. You know you're mine so give me a blowjob that shows me what you know. Go."

Mmf okay fuck YUS wiggle up higher on my knees arch so i can deepthroat you for real now push DOWN NNNF suck suck suck lick around your base and make out with your mound while i swallow swallow swallow nnnf okay pulled up your shaft fuck GAAAASP through my nose look at you before you push me back down nnf lick your tip lick lick slurp mmmf down again...

It's simple, and wonderful, and perfect. I melt into the bliss of it and the tingles that radiate across my body as she works, and her silver hair shining, and the motions of her curves as she sucks, and the rushing of her breath with each thrust withdrawn, and the determination in her eyes every time she looks up at me. I shift my hips down in the chair and cock them toward her, following an instinct I didn't know I had, and it pushes my mound against her face in a way that makes me come instantly like a hot flood through my body.

Mmmm fuck yus slurp glug i love you Master.

I gasp, inhaling, and draw a stream of stargirls into my mouth as the orgasm wracks me unexpectedly powerfully and I brace against the arms of the chair. One of my hands finds smooth cool stone in a suggestive shape, and suddenly the stargirls converge on my mouth, streaking into hyperspace lines punctuated by--ghk.

Master?

I choke, something stuck in my throat, and my stomach churns reminding me that my pet's milk is still in me giving its gift of feeling comfortably full and now, probably, rushing to fix whatever's gone wrong in my voicebox.

_OooooohmiFUCK Master_  i love you too i hope i always make you cum this hard now!!

It was camera-flash-instant image of an apple.

_What?_

The hot flood of orgasm through my body intensifies, overwhelming, and I look down to see my skin _smoking_  and...I don't understand I'm too busy choking on the phantom bite of apple, trying to get a sound out to warn my pet or ask for help, writhing in my chair, and all the while holding her head desperately in place like her lips clamped around my shaft and her sucking swallowing throat are the only thing holding me together.

Swallow, just swallow it! I gulp, and whatever it was goes down and suddenly my airway is free and so is whatever is happening with my body and I arch in the chair, burning inside, exploding, screaming out loud in pain or pleasure or terror or more like all three at once, top of my lungs, my voice crunching and cracking with the sound of overdriven eardrums.

UUnnnnnnf glug GLUG yes Master suck you off wait what NO _NO FUCKING **WAY** \--_

Something's weird with my voice - or maybe I'm just screaming that loud. My body burns, stretching, _changing,_ as I flail in the chair, struggling against the sensations of pulling, expanding, cinching down that feel terrifyingly like the happy tension of growing hard and pulling back my foreskin while trying to deal with the fact that this feels absolutely _amazing_ , like my whole body is responding to my pet's sucking the way just my cock usually does.

\-- but i thought --

I thrash and flail, trying to understand what's happening, looking down at my smoking flesh, but I can't put the pieces together. My head feels strange, and something soft falls over my shoulders as the flood in my body seems to fill that vessel and come surging back up my neck to reshape my face, filling it with heat that makes the flesh feel liquid.

\-- fuck it nevermind got cum to drink here Master's cock needs me slurp suck glug.

And then it's over, and I'm left panting. I still can't process anything and I spend a few beats just watching my pet's head bob against me as she finishes her job. Reflexive words escape my lips, only to be run over by a bossy-sounding girl whose voice comes from all around me:

"Holy _fuck._ "

Omifuck omifuck omifuck glug suck omifuck.

Whoever it is, she's a perfect mimic of my tone and meter, and nails the timing phoneme-for-phoneme.

"What's..."

_Oh._

_"Fuck."_

My eyes move away from my pet's shining hair and gleaming horns to take in thighs of a completely different shape, broad hips, a trim waist, and a pair of perfect, pert, a-cup breasts with erect, defintely-female nipples standing out, squeezed just slightly between suddenly-lithe arms where they converge in front of me to hold my pet.

I pant and stare for a long while, still holding my pet in place.

Nnnf fuck i wanna see and you're out of cum nnnf please let me see Master!

At last, I muster enough coherence to lick my lips and find them different, too, subtly, but they aren't the same shape as before. Smoke curls up around us, still rising off my body as I pant, and then a spasm runs through me highlighting one muscle after another ending on one that's sort of next-to my kegel muscle and I gasp out loud--

Boo! Wait what FUCK HOW--

\--face burning with the girlish sound--

oh right well slurp goodbye cock it was fun....  


\--as my still-hard cock slides smoothly out of her mouth past a lovingly caressing tongue and up inside me where I can feel it comfortingly take up space that wasn't occupied before.

Nf that's so soft okay so what's Master cu--

Without my shaft to hold her in place, my pet slips against my mound, lips dragging over flesh that's sensitive like my shaft, but I get her back in place quickly. The muscle that's just been highlighted to me has...directions. I bear down, and it does exactly what I was hoping for.

MMMmmff FUCK NO WAY ooh slurp mmf there proper deep throat again i missed you too cock.

So I draw it inside again, still holding my pet against me, and drive it back, this time as hard as I can, and then--oof. There's almost a _thunk_  as it locks in place and I relent from withdrawing it again - it feels as if I _could_ , but without taking my time at I'll be straining something.

"Close your eyes."

Yes Master shut.

Slowly, I manage to get the lock to unlock, and withdraw my cock again.

"Lick where it went."

My voice is a surreal, arousing rush in my chest every time I speak.

Omifuck okay slurrrp fuck WEIRD that's so totally a pair of cunt lips but this tastes _just_  like cock.

Her tongue is hot and wet between my legs and the flesh there responds, sensitive and soft, like...I can only imagine this was what my pet felt when I delivered that lick before. My face burns: I've just _cooed_. Itchy, maddening pressure inside me tells me she might get two or three licks in before my cock comes out on its own, so I stop her with a hand pushing her forehead away.

"Good girl. Kneel again."

Okay up there slave pose but PLLLLLLEEEEEEASE MAY i OPEN MY EYES MASTER!

I'm slumping in the chair from getting a blowjob, so I sit up, and gasp under my breath. Long hair tumbles down my back, the weight of my breasts settles in more fully, and my ass and hips feel _weird_  as I reposition them in the chair. Not having cock and balls to position as I sit up is like a numb burning, heh, hole, and I find myself wanting to spread my legs wider, so I do. The air is cool over me, between my legs, brushing my nipples, and the weight of my breasts moves portentiously as I inhale to speak again.

I gulp, and then manage to get words out:

"You're into girls, right?"

NOD NOD NOD SADE'S BALLS YES JUST SHOW ME MASTER AGH!

"Open your eyes and find out why."

_FINALLY._

Open.

i...whoah.

Fucking unf _yum_ holy fuck you make a tasty-looking girl!

Her eyes open and play over me as with one hand she absently squeezes and pushes at her breasts while she stares.

Wait fuck do i need permission to play with these Master?

Her hand pauses suddenly, but she keeps looking, and for the first time I actually feel _naked_  in front of her, but the only things on her face are love and the hunger-lust of a succubus looking at a good meal. 

I reach down, take the hand that's playing with her breasts by the wrist, and tug her to her feet as I stand.

Eeep i guess not wait we're standing are we going to go punish me now?

"I need a fucking mirror. We're going to the bedroom, run ahead and give me a show."

Oh fucking of course silly self but Master i need rules!  


As I talk, I spin her around and give her a smack on the ass to send her off, finding myself striking harder than I would have a moment ago. The blow lands with a satisfying _thwack_ , my pet leaps into action even more satisfyingly, and I stumble as I try to follow: my hips have changed, and I don't know how to walk anymore!

Dance bound flounce this feels so good i love you too Master i but you could make me cum just looking at me this way if you wanted...

No.

There's muscle memory I didn't have before, but what it's offering is -- who cares. It will let me follow my pet's swaying, tail-swishing, delicious ass as she slinks quickly toward the door to the aftercare room. I let it take hold, and unexpectedly the walk it gives me still feels like stomping along in dom-boots despite the grace I can feel in my movements and the fluttering feeling bouncing breasts and cool air where my cock should swing puts in my heart.

I catch up and give her ass another smack, adding playfully:

"Better hurry or I'll get you!"

Giggle! i wonder if i can _run_ sexy?

We hurry through the bending hallways, past the aftercare room, and into the bedroom. As soon as we pass the last curtain:

"Get on the bed, hands and knees, face the headboard, present your cunt."

Unf yes Master bound flounce get to the sweet spot there down ass up hips cocked cunt out ready to fuck.

As we climb onto the bed - I'm following right behind - I watch myself in the mirrored headboard. I'm _stunning_ , not in the overwhelming hyperfeminine anime-breasts way of my pet who poises and pushes her cunt out between spread legs, and raises her tail and folds her wings, but...this is a female self I can actually, impossibly, _identify with_ , and one I will _love_  watching fuck my pet in the mirror. I'm lithe and tall, trim but still with definite curves, somehow strong-looking despite the fact that I've ironically come full-circle to proportions not too different from what I called my skinny-teenager body (though I'm still overall much bigger than before, and my pet seems small in my hands still), but this isn't a skinny teenager maneuvering herself into position behind my pet in the mirror. I'm...graceful. A huge mane of gently-curly golden hair cascades down my back, wild, and my face is totally changed, with ruby-red lips and high cheekbones and the same eyes but they fit this face far, far better. With my cock retracted I look totally female, complete with what that lick before tells me are a pair of real live outer cunt lips. Only the apparent lack of a clit betrays my true nature.

Nnnf tail grabbed yes Master don't wiggle tail hehe oh well i guess you think it's cute from that taste.

Unf! Oh whoah right...

Taking position behind my pet, I grab her tail, then take her hips too and ram us together, feeling the strangness of having no cock to work around as I grind my mound into her ass. It's _almost_ enough, there's a hot soft intimate feeling of her ass against me, but the curves and geomtry don't _quite_  bring our...our cunts togther despite my feeling the warmth of hers _right there_.

Nnnnf mmm ooh fuck okay that's a fun new way to play with my tail i love you Master PURRRR

Her barb is just the right size and shape and slippery texture to run down over my mound and between my legs into the thighgap it's slowly sinking in I have to run over my lips and--

ooh.

Unnnf yus sudden cock against my clit ready to fuck Master nnnf must not glomp wait for Master...

"Here's to playing with dolls. Fuck me."

And I pull back and position my cock and smack her ass hard with my free hand and then plunge into her.

"Ooohf!" Oooh Sade's Balls yus mmm fill me fuck me UNF.....heh, Sade's Balls, but not Master's balls, anymore. But you had them when i was sucking you off, they were in my face the whole time! Okay fuck Master right let's griiiind pound pound bouncy pound...okay good ways to get spanked #157 is bouncing Master's new breasts by fucking vim hard so POUND POUND POUND UNF!

She gets to work the instant I'm in, pounding hard against my own driving into her. The space where my balls were burns still, hungry for sensation, and then all at once they pop out of me revealing to me the place to clench to do it by will and then the next thrust claps them gloriously between us and we both notice at once and change angle together wordlessly, conspiring to squeeze them on every thrust.

UNF YUS THEY'RE BACK HAH! Pound pound bouncy POUND fuck i got addicted to those smacking my clit while we fuck unf smack unf hehe purr....

It takes maybe a dozen strokes of this, with a lot of holding back on my part while I watch us fuck in the parabolic mirror that seems to take our image larger than life and wrap it around us, caressing like a cunt. The whole room is doing that, and in this new body I feel naked against it, engulfed in it, a _part_  of it. 

My curves and breasts abounce with our rhythm and half-grinning open mouth and flashing eyes fit right into this.

_I want to belong here,_ I told the statue...

Unnf unf unf unf unf oooh fuck unf UNF fuck UNF AAAH!

I'm alive with sensation, overwhelmed, still unable to process the things I feel now. My pet's hunger for cock is familiar, as is the arching tension that signals her orgasm and the frission in her feeding that goes with it, but the motion of my breasts, the way my voice resonates, even just the shape of my hips against hers, are a taut soft blur as she faithfully keeps fucking until it's one squeezing smack of my balls between us too many and she finds herself clamped against my hips. I squeeze her tight and dig my fingers in, drawing us together, and the breath I've been holding erupts out of me along with a breathy, rough scream of pleasure:

"AAAH FUCK Holy fuck aah fuck aaaaaaaaah!"

Uuuunnnf "AAAAH HAAAAAH!"

Our screams wrap around each other, ringing in the bedroom, twisted together like something I can almost _see_  synesthetically, purple-and-blue glowing between our eyes as we fix gazes through the mirror, and I resolve to take this all the way and be _much_  more vocal next time we fuck.

Hhhaaaaaahpush grind Master PUSHAAAH OOH gasp

She dances against me as I gasp and come, softly rubbing her ass across my hips. I rub in response, leading her dance with my grip just below her waist where her hips make a handle I can use to force her to stay on my cock, and then as I subside enough to stand it thrust from this position once, twice, thrice, four times, relying just on the softness of her ass to make it possible to pound.

Unf. FUck MMmm. FUCK!

Oooh. Pantfuck.

For a long moment I just hold her onto me, looking at us in the mirror, savoring the way our hips fit together. I'm smiling, broadly, warmly, and my pet is smiling back at me.

"I love you. Good girl."

YUS purring purr grindsnuggle nnf okay then show it on my face i LOVE YOU MASTER!

I release her and pat her on the hips.

"Okay, off, I need to see something."

Boo okay fooooorward nnf UNF that is SO BIG coming out of me i swear my cunt's getting tighter every time.

My cock bounces free, pointing up and glistening.

"Move. Kneel beside me and freeze."

Up and one kneeling step over turn and slave pose get comfy fast because--NNNNNF yup stuck but that's okay i can see Master.

I knee-slide, still kneeling myself, up to the headboard, and toss blocking pillows aside so I can see my full form.

Getting the locks that hold my cock in place to let go takes concentration and a minute or two, but then I watch it smoothly retract back along its length and vanish inside me, leaving the impression of a cunt. I regard myself in the mirror for a moment, trying to process that this beautiful girl is _me_ , and then explore with a trembling hand, careful not to make myself just extend again. My lips make a slit, and inside the slit is...more flesh, skin that responds as if I've touched my foreskin, and the feeling of the tip of my cock there. It feels weird, and a little wrong, probing this way. The sheath that holds my cock right now feels taut, pulled by my being hard, so I roll and cock my hips experimentally, looking to move it inside myself, but there's no stimulation.

That is so cool to watch. Do it again Master!

I'm in front of the mirror, my nipples are rock hard and now _pleading_  for it, and I have to be ready _sometime_. Slowly, I reach up, and cup a breast. It's soft, but totally unlike my pet's - it will fit in my hand, for one thing - and sensitive and _oh dear_  so very hungry to be touched and squeezed. Warmth seems to flood across the nipple as I play with it, and I feel it in my cock, too. A low moan floats out of my mouth as I rub and pinch now both breasts, catching them up on lost stimulation.

It's not enough.

"Come suck me."

YUS AGAIN ALREADY. DOwn flounce crawl to Master and look up all subby umum i need your cock Master. Purr?

"No, my breasts. This one first."

YUS WOO i can touch your breasts YAY1 Up look at Master respectfully then open and lean in careful of my fangs lips around you and slurrrrp mm that tastes awesome suck suck suck suck suck suuuuuuuuuuuck lick suck lick suck suck suck..wait...

I coo and moan, smiling with the glorious relief. She's sucking hard enough I can feel it through the channels that connect breast to nipple, pulling for phantom--oh. Oh _no_.

Suckslurpmmf omifuck omifuck HAH YUS SUCK SUCK SUUUUUCK omifuck that's _delicious GLUG!_

Of _course_ they're functional. They've been so demanding because they're _full._  Helpfully, my pet seems able to digest human milk, or at least likes the taste, from the way she's drinking. It feels glorious and definitely-sexual, almost like coming, as she pulls the milk out of me, and I instinctually cradle her head in a hand.

This is so _very_  like getting a blowjob from her. We seem to feel the milk run out simultaneously, and I guide her over to my other now very jealous breast where she sets purring to work again.

MMmmf yum and it's just the right amount, too, one load per breast! Suck suck SUUUUCK.

When she's done, I let her head go, and she pulls back and looks up at me happily, licking her lips.

"How's my milk taste?"

Oh hehe eep... "Umum...it's not milk, Master, but it tastes awesome?"

"What? What is it?"

I squeeze again, trying to get a drop to inspect, but she's been very thorough. It feels awesome, anyway.

"Cum!"

"What."

"You know, like from your Cock Master?" Ooh that's cool Master's Cock capitalized i'll think that way now. Master's. Cock. M. C. Yum.

Omifuck hehe that face omifuck saving that expression forever poor Master it's okay it's really really good cum.

I turn to regard myself in the mirror again, and burst out laughing, hands hiding my face. It jiggles my breasts enjoyably and I end with hugging myself for a moment, watching how they squeeze in the mirror, and then find myself just staring again, proud.

I've become so _beautiful._

I don't understand and I _don't care_. I didn't _think_ I was trans. I didn't even think I was anything but stereotypically male, and yet I look down and see my curves and breasts and look in the mirror to see myself grinning back out of a girl's face and it's like the smile just pours itself over me and I feel _alive_  in a way I never have. I feel _good_. It makes me _happy_.

I feel like I've finally, _finally_ , managed to actually be naked.

A belated thought surfaces as I process:  _Errum, by the way, wanted to warn you that liking this girly house with its sparkly butterfly throne so much combined with feeling so secure combined with the way we bundle gender stuff in our head combined with lots of nectar is probably going to turn you into a girl if you keep going. Thought you should know._

Okay when you're done selfcesting i wanna get in trouble for feeling you up because OMIFUCK YOUR ASS.

As an explanation, it feels thin, so I go on not caring and checking myself out. I shuffle closer and lean in to inspect my face. Eyes that seemed out-of-proportion small are now the right size, and rimmed with long darkly-golden lashes. Daring myself, I bat them, and then look sidelong at myself, grinning wickedly, and then look down and run my hands over myself from breasts down. I'm _sensitive,_ tender like a bare, heh, cock, and it pushes a shuddering gasp of pleasure followed by a low coo I manage not to stop myself making and I catch my gaze in the mirror to find my brow furrowed and mouth open raunchily so I double down and send both hands for my "cunt" and rub there, hands positioned to keep my cock inside as the stimulation draws me to extend it, and watch the pleasure play across my face, mouth open wide and then suddenly I jerk with a spasm, feeling like I'll explode, as my cock presses against my fingers, trying to extend. When I let go, it drops into place all at once, throbbing.

Unf omifuck that's hot to watch i want you to scissor with me and then just _extend_  into me how hot would that be PURR.

I make a pretty good futa. I rub it and watch myself in the mirror, hands working, breasts bouncing in time with it, mouth open as I start to pant with the rush of it - a rush that's physically intense, but missing someone. I start to turn to her, then have a better idea, and face the mirror again.

"You have fifteen seconds in which you can feel me up any way you want, but I have to be able to see what you're doing in the mirror."

YUS WOO GLOMP omifuck perfect Master ass hehe my hands look small even though you're all trim you are so big Master squeeze squeeze soft and round.

"I can't see that."

I raise an eyebrow.

Dammit! Okay quick quick around in front off to the side so you can see and grab your breast fuck so soft nipple hello nipple squeeze pet squeeze down your on your hip down around to the base of your cock did your lips go away hehe NOPE RUB RUB RUB RUB there something you like Master purr.

"OOooooh..."

Making noises is _fun_. The pleasure of her touch on at the base of my shaft is maddening, hunger-raising, like stroking only my shaft. I grab the arm she's touching me with and shuffle back from the mirror so I can pull her in front of me, grab my cock, force her to her knees, and guide her head onto me.

Whee! MMmmf...

With me kneeling, she's had to assume doggy position to get to the right height. There's little room between the headboard and my mound, so I push toward her until her ass contacts the surface, and then keep going, forcing my cock down her throat, making her back arch as I grin down sadistically and close the gap further.

Eeep eep fuck ouch eep no room fuck!

Her face is buried in my mound, her hair brushes me softly, and her ass is pressed tight against the mirror of the headboard. My shaft all the way down her neck and into her chest keeps her still and silent, but I can feel her straining. Airily:

"Okay, suck me off."

Nnnnf fuck i can't Master NNF no come on self Master says. NNf kiss your base i can move my tongue a little.

"You're actually trying. Good girl."

Yes i'm trying Master you told me to suck you off i do what my Master tells me if you told me then i can Master even if i think i can't.

I let her try for a moment, hand caressing in her hair - she needs no bondage right now but cock and headboard - and then relent and withdraw from her mouth but immediately grab her by the neck and lift her up to throw her against the headboard.

Boo WHEEOOF wait holy fuck GO MASTER!

As she hits it, her weight vanishes from my grasp, her body shifts, and her hair falls flat against the mirror as her gravity changes. I grin, let her neck go and take her legs under the knees and fold them up toward her head, pushing her glistening cunt out and wide at just the right height. She's as flexible as expected, and I find myself pressing her legs against the mirror on either side of her, pinning her arms. As soon as I have her contained she sets about struggling, grinning at me and testing the strength of my restraint, but I'm just as much stronger than her as before.

NNnnf when in bondage struggle NNNNF gasp NF!

"Freeze. Neck down."

NF hot. Okay so now we leave me like this forever and you come and fuck me whenever you need a cunt and i wait for you as your fucktoy you keep in the bedroom except for me it's just sex sex sex nothing else ever happens but i know i'm stuck here waiting for you forever how's that sound Master?

Nf wish i could talk right now!

Her asshole looks inviting like this, and I haven't had that in a bit. I plunge three fingers into her cunt and rub the nectar onto my shaft, exhaling hard and moaning softly as I work, and then position myself and press slowly into her, testing to see if being frozen means she can't relax for me, but her ass opens for me as soon as there's any pressure and I slide slowly tightly in. I can't take my eyes away from the sight of my shaft disappearing into her with my rounded hips on either side and the curves of my breasts in the foreground and then our bodies connect and her open-mouthed, lustful face is in my view and I'm lost in a sea of softness as we press together and her cunt becomes a hot wet kiss on my mound and I slip two fingers into her mouth.

Ooooh oh Master i love you Master fuck me hard i'm your toy Master...

It's...transcendent. Head-to-ass she's silky against me and I can feel her flowing around my taut, lithe form, and yet having breasts to rub together it's like I feel hers against me for the first time. I grind us together and her softness pulling at my nipples sends fire across my whole front. I pound, slow at first, increasing speed as her ass fully lets go.

"Unfreeze."

NNF Yes Master STRUGGLE GRIND omifuck ooh you're so...you have such kind breasts rub rub rub against them....

Impaled at both ends. I drive both fingers and cock into her over and over in synchrony, gasping out the pleasure of it, determined to become totally unafraid of this beautiful new voice, moaning loud together with my pet.

YUS caught our nipples on each other UNF!

Her soft-hard nipple catching mine and pulling at it sends more fire across my chest and is what tips me over into a screaming orgasm where I drive us together with all my weight and jam my fingers as far down her throat as I can manage while fixing her eyes with mine. Our bodies slide against each other, curves over curves, as I press further, mirroring how I pinned her before.

Unf ouch Master's cumming make it good suck ver fingers suck suck lick squirm nnnf oooh Sade's Balls you're yummy Master slurp...

When it's over, I lie against her, no longer pressing but with my fingers still in her mouth where she licks at them languidly and happily, looking up at me with half-mast eyes and panting gently through her nose in time with my own breathing.

Finally, I withdraw my fingers from her mouth, lick her nectar slowly off them, and pull back. Her ass grips me as I go, tugging as if in plea to stay, and I stop, looking at her, and then slide back in--

Ooooh oof fuck unf...

\--lean down (this requires arching a bit) and kiss her full on the lips and OH GOD

Mmmf yum kiss love you Master purring kiss yum....

I should have tried out my lips _first._ How could anything ever possibly be so soft? It's like we're liquid melting into each other. Her lips caress, and submit to my lead, and feel (and taste) like soft candies full of nectar that will burst under the slightest pressure, and I feel every exquisite detail as if my lips and face have no skin at all except of course this is the precise opposite of painful.

OOooh omifuck yes bite my lips nnf unf ouch hehe purr

We make out for a long while, kissing and moaning together as kissing moves my cock inside her, and then with a peck on her lips I withdraw and pull my cock slowly out of her. It bounces up, glistening with nectar as it comes free, and I breathe deep and draw it back inside myself, leaving the nectar feeling wet and slippery inside my lips. I point to them:

"Come lick me clean."

Holy fuck yes please unfold sit up spin around scoot down to reach between Master's legs umum head back to reach you wow this looks exactly like a cunt yum. Liiiiick...

She's sitting up, from her perspective, head thrown back to reach between my legs, but to me it's as if she's lying flat on her back. I spread my legs further to give her access and then her tongue is on me, probing, licking, sucking just a bit as she parts my lips to get at the nectar between them. 

"Oooooh..."

Unf yum it's cock-flavored inside HAH! Mmm and that's your tip, lick lick lick i wonder if i could suck it out of you and down my throat....

In no time, I _need_  to extend my cock, or close my legs and squirm in frustration, or both, but I fight it, letting my pet finish her work. She's a beautiful view in front of me, breasts bouncing gently as she works, legs splayed out on the mirror framing my image looking back between them. When I can't stand it any more I reach down and squeeze one of her breasts, noticing how reaching in front of myself means making my own breasts squish a bit. I'm silky against myself, and the pressure feels good, as if I _still_ have stimulation to catch up on.

_Or maybe they just like being played with, silly._

"That's enough. Come out."

Boo okay puuull up watch my horns you have really soft thighs now and there aww leaning against Master's tummy.

My heart is pounding as she withdraws and rests her head just below my belly-button. It feels just as big and powerful as before in my chest. I leave her there a moment, running my hand through her hair as she looks up at me, purring.

i love you Master!

"Did you know I would change?"

Shake shake slowly hair fuzzes purring purr.

"Do you like it?"

Nod nod nod make a slutty face and lick my lips at you YUM MASTER.

I reach up and cuppingly run my free hand over my breast, making it bounce a little as it comes free.

"So do I."

I pet her hair a minute longer, savoring its silkiness running through my hand. Between her legs in the mirror I can see myself, and an image further away in the mirrored pentagram beyond the foot of the bed.

"Okay, up. I need to see what kind of ass I got. You seemed to like it before."

Nodnodnod UNF yes. Umum....squidge sideways...lay forward and flip onto my back grin because Master is surprised and then that should make the bed a Stair just scoot down to it and step onto...hm. Bite my lip.

"Are you stuck on that gravity?"

Look at my feet, look at Master. Nod nod. "Master i think you have to Dynamic Entry me back, too."

"How?"

But I'm already remembering the towel when I was learning about this and moving into position.

"Just pick you up?"

Nod nod nod.

The positioning has put me just below her breasts when I lean in to lift her, and I take a dizzying, soft nuzzle between them that feels on my new face like putting my cock between them, except that my face is soft like her breasts now and there's a thrill to the softness-on-softness I definitionally won't get from my cock. I squeeze her breasts from the sides and bury my face in them until I can't breathe, and stay there until I'm lurching with the need for air.

Hehe...okay i can be better than air to you purr.

I push it, just for the rush, and because her breasts feel that good, then pull free, gasping, my heart pounding, but I find I can still catch my breath superhumanly fast. I shift my grip down her body and take her around the waist.

"Grab on."

Okay spread and sliiide my legs up around you unf ooh you have hips now this is fun SQUEEZE.

She wraps her legs around me and nestles them into the curve of my waist so that her weight will be resting on my hips when I pull her free, so I lift and pull back and there's an instant of her weight resting against the mirror and then it's in my arms and resting comfortably on my hips via her squeezing soft silky warm thighs.

Wheeunf squeeze Master hold on teeter hehe!

Her whole body is warm silk squeezing me. I scoot back, shift her so that I'm cradling her under the ass, and move her sideways so she's embracing my shoulder happily and I can see. Thus arranged, I kneeling-shuffle off the foot of the bed and walk to the pentagram to get a standing look at myself. I feel, gulp, motherly, seeing myself carrying her like a child this way.

"Down so I can see."

Boo. i like being carried. OOooh slide down Master that feels good unf squishing our breasts over each other like that is hot...wait fuck stand right.

Standing, I'm struck by how tall I look - I've gone from refrigerator to willow tree. It's surprising to find how much I like this, given the visceral, raunchy thrill I get looking at my pet's overstated curves, but it suits me and I like looking at it. I twist, trying to get a look at my ass, and I'm only at it for a few seconds when my pet reaches out with a cutely timid expression to tug at my dangling hand.

"What's up?"

"i saw a getting-ready room through a door while we were playing rapetag, Master. Maybe there's mirrors in there that would be good for seeing your ass?"

I untwist, actually managing to grin at what she calls our game.

"Show me the way as sluttily as you can."

Okay i bet it's through the other door from the bedroom that would make sense and if not we can be lost in a sexy maze forever i AM SO GLAD TO BE HOME!

Sluttily as i can? Yes Master challenge accepted Master. Turn and rrrrrrrrub past you in front wrap my tail and drag it over you as i go unnf Master ass on my barb yum now Master hip now Master mound now Master will be coming for me so get moving hehe.

She gives a worthy show, swaying her hips and looking back suggestively once. I follow her off to our left, opposite what I thought was the way to the door, fighting momentarily again with the muscle memory that wants me to roll my hips as I walk before giving in and moving with it, blushing a little. We pass into another curtained hallway (I let them drag at me gloriously, revelling in the way the silky fabric feels moving across my nipples), into its dim light, and around a gravity bend like the other door's, but instead of going into pitch blackness this time we come out into a crystal cavern gently lit with full-spectrum light coming from point sources above us. It's cozy, but not _small_. 

Ooooh. That shoe-rack yes you need at least that many different kinds of boots to walk on me with.

It's entirely made of mirrors - every surface is reflective, including the floor, making it impossible to process at first: all I can see is myriad images of my pet and myself at all different angles and modes of distortion. Eventually, it begins to resolve into an actual literal crystal cavern: faceted, mirror-surfaced "rocks" surround us. The room is round-ish, with another passage opposite the one we've entered through, again with a curtain hanging off-angle, but this curtain is sequined so as not to mar the reflectivity of the room. Even the floor is uneven with facets, though only subtly and not so as to be difficult to walk on. I'm brought up short, but my pet dances cutely into the room, spins once a few feet from the center, grinning --

OMIFUCK. That is _awesome_! i love you, Rocks! Okay then i bet there's a spot where...umum....

\-- seems to search back and forth, dancing lightly --

Oooooooh, follow the facets on the floor i see okay they all point me _here_  yup kneel down and show Master point and grin.

\-- and then kneels, looks at me smiling expectantly, and points twice to a spot beside her on the floor. I follow, curi--whoah. The minute I step into the room, shifting illusions slam into being around me: closet-rods (identifiable by diamond clothes-hangers), crystal mannequins, racks as for shoes or other small things, shelves, a universe of very expensive storage options hurtles by, never in my way or blocking my view of my pet, but always seemingly just in reach. The illusions are completely different to the ambigously-present stargirls or Rory's realspace CGI show: they look absolutely, flawlessly rock-solid, like they're in the room with me. Curious, I reach out to swish my hand through a row of empty clothes-hangers--

"Gah!"

Isn't it so cool?

My hand strikes cold crystal, and they clatter loudly against each other.

"How are these real?"

"It's mirrorwalk, Master! The facets all line up different depending on where you stand and every spot is a different mirror and instead of being behind the glass they project the image into the room so you can go through your closet really fast! Umum, also i found what you want i think Master."

"Holy fuck."

She glances at the spot she was pointing to, so I carefully make my way over and the sound of clacking hangers vanishes as I move out of that virtual image's range. As I reach her, the storage options cease and a fragmentary image jumbling my pink flesh and my pet's glittery-white replaces them as I pass and fuzz her hair -- 

Purring purr headfuzzes

\-- and then I reach the spot she's pointing at and the shards align into images of me. In front of me are front and back views like freestanding mirror images, while behind them a massively-magnified view of myself towers over and under us. When I step closer, the images rotate into top and bottom views and then break back into shards as I leave the circle, so I step back into it and they return.

Blonde hair and freckles. I look tan next to my pet (who stayed outside the circle, but I can feel the milky-sexual warmth of her presence right behind me), but know I'm actually pale. From behind, smooth muscles move under the skin of a lean back half-hidden by long flaxen hair (as revealed by the full-spectrum light), and at the top of long, shapely legs my ass is...okay, it's wonderful. I like butts and this one is _great,_ soft and tight with nice rounded hips, a proper girl-dom's ass. There's even a nice view of my "cunt" through my thighgap _._  I grin and smack it, sending a crack through the room and a quick ripple through my flesh. It stings deliciously.

Dammit now i _really_  need some pain please hurt me soon Master.

...that did not make me curious I do _not_ wonder what being on the recieving end of a spanking like I gave my pet at the gates would feel like oh no definitely not. I rub and squeeze, watching how the flesh deforms in my hand, still grinning. It feels _good_ , as if the same urge to be fondled has been written into my ass as well as my breasts. My other hand goes to a breast, but I'm focused on the way this squeezing makes me press my thighs together and breathe hard. Squeezing hard pulls deliciously at my lips and the flesh in the cleft of my thighgap is electrically sensitive. My eyes close seemingly on their own and I just enjoy it for a moment.

Pleannnf fucking fuck please may i masturbate if i have to watch you play like this Master fuck don't interrupt, self.

I'm so _soft._

i'll leave a nice puddle you'll like that.

Something feels strange in...no.

Something feels strange in my mind. The voice that comes out when I speak makes me feel _awesome._ Can't I think in it? I can! It feels _good_ , too.

It takes will. I have to choose to do it...but the way this makes me feel, I'm going to choose and choose.

I move my hand around from my ass to cup my mound and press at my lips. I squeeze. I press. I probe, fingers slipping between my lips. I'm a girl, but with...something a little different, a girl with a fun surprise to match her bossy disposition.

"Get over here and kneel in front of me."

Up bound brush past you spin and kneel.

Still touching myself, I open my eyes to catch her staring at my hand in my cunt, so I take my hand away.

"Give it a kiss that shows me you know who your Mistress is."

Yes Mistress wait whoah okay up and look up subbily then eyes down and gently kiiiiiss Oh fuck please let me eat you out aand done kneel back down eyes down slave pose.

"Good girl. That's what you call me now. Mistress. Say it. Yes Mistress."

"Yes Mistress."

Holy fuck it's changed just like that. Can i call you other stuff now? Mistrnnf. Misnf. Fuck, not even in my head! That's hot...OOOOOH OF COURSE!

Okay telling you about this as soon as we're not in this scene.

My lips - the ones on my face - are curling into a smile.

"Again. Louder."

"Yes Mistress!"

Hmm. It's not quite right. "Call me Miss."

"Yes Miss."

Wow that's a trip after being bound to it all night. Unf.

"Look at me and say it."

Look up Miss's eyes staring down i love you Miss "Yes Miss."

_Miss Blue-Eyes._

That is so stupid.

That is so _awesome._

"Miss Blue-Eyes. Say it."

Oooh. "Yes, Miss Blueeyes."

"Again. Sluttier."

Squeeze my breasts out a little lean down a little more look up with slutty eyes lick my lips now breathy voice: "Miss Blueeyes."

Miss Blueeyes. She's running the words of my name together in a pleasing way. I'll keep it.

I regard my mirror-selves again for a moment, considering the question they're posing me.

I live with my sparkly fuckdoll pet succubus in a hearts-and-flowers-themed house whose bedroom has lots of room to display all the living dolls Sade Hall seems to think I'll end up collecting over the course of eternity where I sat on my shiny butterfly throne and turned into a girl (mostly) who wants to call herself "Miss Blueeyes" which is simultaneously the most ridiculous and best name I've ever heard.

The question Miss Blueeyes is asking me, looking back at me in mirror-projection, is: _are you too cool to take it all the way?_ _Come on. You know you want to._

"'I belong to you, Miss Blueeyes.' Say it."

"i belong to you, Miss Blueeyes."

I have never actually thought I was cool.

"Good girl. You call me 'Miss' now, or 'Miss Blueeyes' if you're telling someone who I am or think you might be in trouble. Understand?"

"Yes Miss."

Missnf. Mnf. Minf. Yup. Definitely. Finally i thought i'd never figure out what was up with that stuff!

I am Miss Blueeyes. I grin at the mirror. Good to meet you, self.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Rime of the Nascent Mariner](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17045369) by [Soren_Tycho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soren_Tycho/pseuds/Soren_Tycho)




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